Camping Indoors

Posted by Braden

My friends and I have really enjoyed going to Divine Comedy shows this year. Divne Comedy's amazingly huge popularity makes getting front-row seats rather difficult, however. How did we remedy this problem? With a tent. And pizza. And cards. And gummy worms. and marshmallows. And a lot of spare time.





We showed up just before 5 p.m. for the 7 p.m. show and set up camp. The time really flew by after that, and we were first in line! I think my friend Tom summed it up best:

Renting a tent: $7
Ordering two pizzas and having them delivered to the JSB lobby: $12
Buying a Divine Comedy ticket: $5
The look we just got from that kid over there: Priceless

Allergic to Goodbyes

Posted by Braden

Goodbyes are in the air, and it's making me nauseous. Really, I can't go anywhere or do anything these days without somebody making a comment like:

"This is the last time we'll ever do this!"

"I wonder if all of us will ever be in the same place again. . ."

"Man, I'm going to really miss this class."

"Do you remember that time we [insert nostalgic moment here]?"

Sure, anybody/everybody is allowed to be a little bit sad that things are going to change in the very near future, but do they really have to? All the crying and tender moments . . . there haven't been TOO many instances yet, but I'm sure it'll get worse as the week goes on and people start leaving.

Cold and heartless as this sounds, I really kind of wish the semester could just end and we would all go home. If you haven't said something important to a particular someone yet, then why in the world should they believe you when you say it right before you leave them for a few months or a couple years? And then there's that awkwardness about how to say goodbye: Do you give everyone a hug? What if you don't know them very well? Do you give them a handshake? No, that's awkward and lame. Do you give them a high five? What if they think you're going in for a hug after all and then it turns into one of those awkward, sort-of-caught-me-by-surprise hugs? And must we really hear all of those old yearbook signature messages again?! "Have a great summer!" "I'm glad I met you!" "Don't change!" OK, so people don't ACTUALLY say stuff like that very much anymore, but you can almost taste the forced goodbye awkwardness in the air sometimes.

And what's worse—I'm not leaving until the very, very end of the week, so I'm going to have to bear the full brunt of this somewhat painful experience! Maybe if I lock myself in my room as soon as I finish finals and only come out to use the microwave and the restroom, I can avoid it all!

In all actuality, I'll probably just have to tough it out, day by painstakingly sappy, goodbye-full day. *sigh* Wish me luck.

Delinquent Party

Posted by Braden

On Saturday we had our last big get-together with everyone before people start heading for home, missions, summer jobs, the rest of their lives, etc. And at this party we did whatever sounded fun while still being legal and safe-ish. We ate lots of junk food. We massacred a pinata. We launched a Reeses cup 60 yards at DT field. And we made sugar bombs. :)

Sugar bombs are wonderful things. You stick a boatload of powdered sugar in your mouth, somebody lights a match, and you blow. Pretty pictures result. And honestly, what else could we have done with all of our leftover powdered sugar? It was fun seeing everybody one last time. We'll probably most definitely never all be together again. At least we each have our own picture of spewing fire to remember the night by.

Cursed

Posted by Trevor

At our last ward prayer, as is customary, everyone who received their mission call recently announced it to the rest of the ward. At this particular ward prayer, we had about seven or eight guys announce their calls. Many have only to finish up the semester before they'll be leaving.

Though this is exciting news for them, I can't help feeling a little left out every time it happens. I was cursed with having a late birthday. By the time I can submit my papers (let alone receive my call), most everyone that I know will already be gone, and I don't know how many letters I can write without my hand falling off.

All is not lost—I'm working on my papers right now. I just have to wait much longer to get the white envelope. . . .

The Unstuffing

Posted by Braden

And now for the unloading of the 34 boys after we'd shut the door. It took substantially less time and is vaguely (or perhaps not too vaguely) reminiscent of clowns getting out of a car at the circus:

The Stuffing

Posted by Braden

I don't know if this will work (I just copied and pasted the code for "embed this video" from Facebook), but this is what I've been up to lately: 5,534 lbs in a 5-cubic-yard room. Amazing!

Dreamy Athletes

Posted by Brittany Karford Rogers (BA ’07), Associate Editor

Known for good pizza, Brick Oven, Sini discovered, was also a place to spot the men’s volleyball team. Enjoying a pie after a home game, she and her friends recognized some of the players and were fortunate to be accompanied by one of her roommate’s aunts.

“My roommate’s aunt is like a scholarship person who knows everyone who’s in sports at BYU,” says Sini. “And she told the players to come talk to us.” In fewer words than Sini used, he was beautiful—though the players are “all pretty cute.”

Waging War

Posted by Elise

Once upon a time there were two cunning and mischievous roommates, both named Elise. No one knows what prompted their actions (boredom, most likely), but one dark and stormy night they kidnapped and held hostage the two flags that hung in their guy-friends’ apartment. The prized spoils were tacked to the wall and ceiling in the two cohorts’ bedroom, beyond the chalk line of honor that prevented the boys from retrieving their hostages.

The initial kidnapping set in motion a devious and elaborate plot to capture the Elises’ prized DVD collection and use it as collateral. The girls counterattacked by stealing keys, cell phones, name tags, and their foes’ collection of DVDs. The war escalated to include chases, wrestles through doors, decoys, betrayals, and alliances. Finally the UN intervened and suggested (for that’s really all the UN can do) that the two parties call a truce and return all POWs. The troops were sent home and the treaty was sealed with a pinkie swear. The war was finally over.

How Many Freshmen Can You Fit in a Closet-Size Room?

Posted by Braden

Yesterday, we fit these 28 manly men and one woman . . .


. . . into this 1 x 2 x 2.5–yard entryway between two apartments:


Why did we do it? Because we could. Because it was there. Because we got to talking one day--when five of us got in each other's way as we were walking in and out at the same time--and somebody thought out loud, "I wonder how many boys we could fit in here if we really tried?"

So Saturday night I collected a bunch of boys and we really tried. First we made two rows of boys and loaded them in. Then we tossed a boy on top. Then we loaded another couple rows of boys. We tossed another boy on top. We shoved some more boys in the entryway. Then we shoved a third and fourth boy on top. Then we found a way to fit a boy in under the legs of the other boys. Then we ran out of boys, so we grabbed a girl and stuffed her in there as well. Then we shut the door, for closure's sake.

We all climbed out, and the couple-dozen girls in the hallway, who'd been watching and taking pictures, counted as we came out of the room like clowns out of a clown car: "1, 2, 3, . . . 27, 28, 29!"

My, what a beautiful thing! It was tight, for sure. In fact, I couldn't move until after 12 of the boys were already out. And it got pretty hot in there. But think about what we were able to do! We had 5.8 boys per cubic yard! And these weren't little boys either—we had a lot of rather big boys in there!

Here are a few photos of the loading process:







The sign on the door of that last picture was absolutely true: "Warning: Contents may be very hot and extremely habit forming." (It's a phrase from a Blackjack pizza box.)

Much fun was had by all . . . but we're not satisfied yet. We think we can fit at least 33 if we pack a little more intelligently, fit a few more between the boys' legs, and save our littlest people for on top. So we're currently working on plans for an encore performance: bigger, better, and even more manly than the first extravaganza!

Stealing Spring Break

Posted by Braden

BYU doesn't have a spring break, but my friends and I felt like we needed one—so we created one. One of my friends has very nice grandparents who own a cabin in the middle of nowhere in Northwestern Utah, by Grouse Creek. So 10 of us went up there for the weekend and had a blast!

We made a menu and took a trip to the Creamery, where we asked the very cooperative cashier if she could please split the bill by 10 people. Between the people from Utah, we were able to produce enough sleeping bags to complement the accommodations at the cabin. On Friday we packed up two cars, said a prayer, and drove away from Heritage Halls at 6 p.m. I drove one car (Heather's) and Kyli drove her own. While traveling, we listened to a combination of songs from three different iPods and ate muddy buddies, Doritos, snicker doodles, granola bars, and oranges. What's a vacation without excessive amounts of junk food?

Now you have to understand, this cabin really was in the middle of nowhere. We lost cell phone reception an hour before we got there, and the nearest gas station was 35 minutes away, as far as we could tell. Friday night we chopped wood for the weekend (we felt so rustic and manly). We watched three movies, went horseback riding, rode the four-wheelers, played board games, and just chilled. Kyli's grandparents were so funny, too! As her grandpa was driving a few of us in his truck, he told us about how he enjoys fly-fishin' in the "crick." It was awesome!

On Sunday we made breakfast, packed up, drove an hour, stopped at a chapel, went to church, then got back in the cars and kept on driving to get back home in time for ward prayer! What a fun weekend!

Missionary Fever

Posted by Braden

Here they come! The white envelopes that boys have been waiting all their lives to receive are streaming into dorm mailboxes.

We had three arrive this week and two the week before that. Three more are expected to come this week, based on our projections!

When they do come, word is passed that "__(fill in name here)__ got his letter today!" Some open their envelopes in private, but most do it in the lobby, surrounded by the whole ward with family members on the phone. When they open their letters, they read the call aloud, and a lot of girls scream. The mission-call recipients can't stop smiling. They write their names and missions on the list we have going on our bulletin board, then I write those names on sticky-note arrows and put them up on the map over our hall fireplace. They announce where they're going and their report dates in elders quorum, then again at ward prayer. Romania, Iowa, New Zealand, South Africa, Argentina, Colorado, Taiwan, Guatemala . . . the calls keep on coming, and everybody loves the atmosphere!

Well, almost. A few girls have been feeling weepy lately, now that their boys are going to be leaving so soon. And a few others are afraid that the boys who have their calls will become so focused on their missions that they aren't going to want to hang out with girls any more. I highly doubt that will be the case, though. They're still boys, and they still have at least three months before they report.

In any case, it's fun to see all this happening! Now the whole ward will wait with bated breath for Wednesdays and Thursdays to see what calls will come in the next batch of big white envelopes!

My Mission Call

Posted by Braden

It happened! It finally happened! My call came! It finally came! And I cannot stop smiling!

Before I say where I'm going and when, there are a few things you have to know:


1) My brother gets home from his mission in Taiwan on May 25. As soon as my brother and I were old enough to do the math, we figured that we might just barely miss each other between our two missions. We corresponded about availability dates throughout this past year, trying to figure out what would be perfect. I didn't want to have to wait too long to leave, but I wanted to see my brother. There are typically a few weeks between your availability date and your report date, but it's not always the same length of time.

Finally, we decided (via e-mail) that a May 14 availability date would be perfect. It was most likely that I wouldn't have to report for at least a few weeks after that, and we'd be able to see each other, but it wouldn't be too far into the summer. Then over Christmas break, when I was filling out my papers, I made a comment like, "I'm so anxious to go!" to which one of my parents replied, "Well, you are 19. You can set your availability date for whenever you want." And then I was like, "You know, why not? I'm dying to go soon. I'm setting my date for May 1, and if Travis and I don't get to see each other, I won't like it, but I'll survive."

I didn't mention the change in plans to him, but then he asked, so I had to tell him about the switch. I really considered moving the date back a week or so, closer to May 14—what's one more week before reporting compared to having the whole family together for one week in four years? But May 1 just felt right. I thought about it a lot, prayed about it a lot, and it just felt right, so I kept it.


2) Every pre-missionary responds to the inevitable question, "So where would you like to go on your mission?" at least once in his life with, "Wherever the Lord needs me." And it's true, that's where I wanted to go. But I suspect that every one of those boys and girls also thinks in his or her head at least once, "I'll go wherever, but wouldn't it be especially fun to go to _____."

Well, I had one of those places. For as long as I can remember, when people said, "I know that you're not supposed to pick favorites, but IF you did get to pick where you would like to go, what would you choose?" I always responded with this country. When my uncle came home from a mission to this country a number of years ago, I remember thinking, "Wow—that'd be perfect! I hope I go somewhere like that!" When everybody in my family wrote down where they thought I'd go, I secretly made my own guess, and it was this place.

This summer I found out that due to visa troubles, this mission was being closed to North American missionaries. I groaned just a little bit on the inside, but I knew that I was going to get called to wherever I was supposed to go anyway. Then last week, after my papers were already in, I heard from an RM that the mission had recently opened back up again to missionaries from North America.

I was so excited! I went home and sent my parents an email with the title, "______ is open again!" since they've always known that I have a sweet spot for it. "I don't expect to go there, of course," I told them, "but it is nice that it's an option again, at least!"

A week ago my key chain broke, so I told myself that I'd just buy a new one in a week or two of the flag of whatever country I'm going to (United States included). Two days ago, when I was in the Bookstore, I took a look at all the flags, and naturally my eyes searched first for this country's flag. After I found it, I mentally slapped my wrist for showing preference, and went on to my next class.


3) I asked anybody with mission-call experience about when they thought I should expect to receive mine. There were just too many opinions for me to know anything for sure, but I was pretty positive that my call would show up sometime in the middle of the week, most likely on a Wednesday. This past Wednesday, a boy who sent in his papers a week before me received his call. I figured that meant I still had at least a week to go, so I stopped thinking about it. Then this morning I found out from my grandparents, who have a contact in the Missionary Department, that my call was mailed out yesterday! All of my focus disappeared instantly.

I came home from classes at 1:30 p.m., hoping to find the call, but no. I went to the temple for an hour and a half and came back expecting to find my call, since our mail usually comes by 2:30 p.m., but no. The mail had come, but it wasn't there. I went to my 4 p.m. class, content to wait until tomorrow to begin checking compulsively again. I got two phone calls during class that I didn't answer; I checked my voice mail as soon as class ended, and one of the messages was from the Helaman Halls Central Building. They said they had my mission call there! I was rather confused, since I live in Heritage Halls, but they had my call and I wanted it!

Unfortunately, I was already on my way to meet up with somebody for dinner, and we were supposed to meet up in five minutes! I rushed to dinner; we ate and talked for about an hour. I had to fight so hard to keep myself from jumping up and sprinting to the central building. And then I got the letter; it was about 6 p.m. by this time.

I tried really hard not to look at the postage; I've heard varying stories on what it means, and I didn't want to speculate. I wanted to open my call with my ward, but I also needed to pick a time when all of my family back home could be on the phone, so I chose 8:30 p.m. I texted all the people whom I'd promised to tell when I got my letter and passed the word around the ward.

Then I tried, failing miserably, to study for my test tomorrow. I couldn't concentrate for more than maybe 30 seconds at a time. "Two hours left . . . 1.5 hours . . . 1.3 hours . . . 1.15 hours . . . 1.12 hours . . . 1.11 hours . . . is time moving at all?!"

Another boy in the ward was scheduled to open his call at 8 p.m. The ward showed up, and he read that he was going to Brazil, and his report date was May 24! That scared me a little: if he put his papers in on the same day as me, and he's reporting on May 24, odds are pretty good that I'll report on the same day, and I'll miss my brother by one day!"

The last 30 minutes were by far the longest. I went for a walk to burn the time. And then 8:30 p.m. finally came.

I called up my family back home, hushed everyone down, my sister started recording, and I opened up the letter:

Dear Elder Hancock:

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the RUSSIA SAMARA mission!
(my thoughts: "I CAN'T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY GOT CALLED TO RUSSIA!")
You should report to the Missionary Training Center at Provo, Utah on Wednesday, 3 June 2009!
("I can't believe that I'm going to Russia, AND I get to see Travis before I leave!")

Then everybody clapped and cheered and congratulated me and I couldn't do anything but smile, thank them, smile, reread the letter, smile, and find where Samara is in Russia, and smile some more.

I'm not going to get any more studying done tonight. All I want to do is look up Russia, Samara, the Russian language, my application for a U.S. passport, my mission boundaries, stories from people who went to my mission, the list of supplies I'm going to need, etc. WOW, what a rush! It turns out that it is the exact same mission where my uncle went! I can't wait to hear stories, see pictures, and start learning all about where I'm going to be living and serving for the next two years!

I know that I would have been thrilled no matter where I was called. It's still so amazing to me that we 19-year-old boys are allowed to be called to such important roles in the grand scheme of everything! And I cannot wait to share the gospel with all of the good people in Russia! It's made me so happy! If I can just help them see how much they have to gain, how much easier and happier their lives will be with the gospel, they'll know that it's worth it. And even if you told me that not a single person I talk to will join the Church in all 24 months that I'm there, I'd still go in a heartbeat! This is going to be a wonderful two years!

And wow—to be called to the place I've always wanted to go AND see my brother before I leave AND not have to wait any longer to get my call—I'm certainly on cloud nine right now, and I'm not coming down anytime soon!

Floor Discrimination

Posted by Braden

During first semester I lived on the third floor of my hall. This semester I live on the first floor. Last semester I figured it was all the same, the only exception being that I had to climb two more flights of stairs whenever I came home from classes. Now I know the truth.

The third-floor people are a little more isolated. There is more activity in the first-floor lobby. If somebody's doing something stupid in the first-floor lobby, I'll hear it and get to watch. Before, I probably wouldn't have noticed the noise, or I wouldn't have cared if I had. On Thursday, three people wanted to play spades and they needed a fourth. My room is right there connected to the main lobby, so they hollered, "Hey Braden, wanna play spades?" and I did, so we played. Had I been on the third floor, that would not have happened, and I probably would have done something else or gone to bed 30 minutes earlier.

It's not just my hall either—I've noticed that in the girls' hall, too. The ones who live on the third floor have their own friends—roommates or corner buddies or whatnot—but they don't often spontaneously hop into activities with the first-floor girls; they don't really know the first-floor girls very well because they live two floors up! And since everyone enters their rooms from the outside staircases, there's no pressing reason to interact with other floors in your hall outside of planned hall activities.

Now, I don't think it's necessarily a terrible thing that needs fixing, or that the upper floors are purposely excluded in any way, but I did think it was interesting. Life really IS different on the first floor.

Three-Day Weekend

Posted by Elise

What do you get when you cross a bunch of poor college students with a three-day weekend? Way too much fun!

Saturday night a group of friends got together to play games. It started with a game full of running and hitting (with a club made of newspaper). The games then escalated to trying to rip open presents while wearing snow gloves. Trust me, it is harder than it sounds! And we ended with a game where the loser gets his or her face written on with charcoal. A word of warning if you decide to try this at home: if you say (even jokingly) that you want to get your face charcoaled, your friends will chase you, pin your arms, and hold you in a headlock until they color your entire face . . . not that I speak from experience.

Now or Never

Posted by Braden

There are some things in life that only college kids are stupid enough to do. For typical people, at no other time in their lives are they quite so able to eat funny things, sleep odd hours, and do, well, stupid things. I felt like I had neglected the last of those three activities, so when the opportunity presented itself soon after finals, I took advantage of it.

It was Wednesday night, we were all done with our finals, and a guy suggested, "Hey, we should go jump in Utah Lake to celebrate!" Of course, we all told him that he was crazy, but a girl with a car offered to drive, and before long he was putting on a swimsuit. The girls offered to make us hot chocolate afterward if we did, so then before long, I was putting on a swimsuit too.



On the way to the lake, we saw a sign outside that showed the temperature was 20 degrees Fahrenheit. The lake was hard to get to and didn't have very well-defined banks, so we went to Provo River instead! We got out of the car, shivered at the breeze coming through the canyon, stripped down to our swimsuits (just the three boys), jumped in the
river, sat down, rolled around, then ran back to our clothes and blankets.

It actually wasn't so terrible--I couldn't feel my feet after the first two-ish seconds in the water. Feeling in my feet came back about 20 minutes later, but during that time, there really wasn't that much discomfort; it just felt like novocaine for the feet. Then we went back to our home base at the girls' house, and they made us hot chocolate!

We did notice blood on the kitchen floor after we'd been home a few minutes. We had no idea whose it was since none of us could feel anything. After we found the offending heel that had been cut on the rocks in the riverbed, we noticed blood on the carpet, and we spent the next hour getting it out.



The whole escapade was a rather pointless, thoughtless, careless, stupid thing for us to do . . . but I didn't die, and now I have a fun story to tell about the crazy things I did in college!

With friends like these, who needs a pet cricket?

Posted by Braden

I run my life by guilt:

• "I should probably be studying . . . OK, I'll do it now and play later."
  
• "I need to start getting some work/leadership experience for my college resume . . . alright, what options do I have?"
  
• "I probably shouldn't eat ice cream right before going to bed . . . alright, I'll just wait until breakfast in the morning to eat something"

My roommate now serves as an anti-conscience for me, and it may not be altogether unhealthy.

Me: "I probably shouldn't eat anything before I go to bed..."
Him: "Oh, suck it up--go eat something!"
Me: "You know what? Yeah, I think I might!"

Me:"I'd love to . . . but I should probably finish the chapter while I'm here and in the studying mode . . . "
Him:"Oh, you're always studying! Go play volleyball. The homework will get done; it always does!"
Me:"That's true--I will finish it tonight before I go to bed. OK, see you in a few hours!"

Me:"Yeah, but I can't just NOT attend the lecture . . . it's free information!"
Him:"You've been to the last five that the college hosted. You've earned a day off! Stay home and do something for fun!"
Me:"I don't know that I have time for something fun . . . "
Him:"Shut up--we're playing Super Smash Bros. Get over here!"
Me:"OK. That sounds good."

It's different . . . but now that my id has a little bit of a boost, I find myself doing a lot of things that otherwise I wouldn't be doing. Not bad things, just simple little enjoyable things that I wouldn't normally be able to convince myself to do. Thank goodness for complementary roommates!

Jack-Y-Lantern

Posted by Laura

This weekend, my apartment of girls had a huge group date and carved pumpkins together. It was so much fun, and we never even got close to burning down the apartment.

Instead of doing a face, I carved a Y into mine and it reminded me of homecoming week when I was able to "light up the Y." It was a bunch of fun and it was really neat to get to know everybody even more.

Cooking up a Storm...

Posted by Laura

Unlike some other wards which have ward prayer, we have ward dessert night every Sunday. It's fun to mix and mingle with each other to try to learn names, and I think the desserts alone draw big crowds.

Each Sunday during priesthood and Relief Society, they assign out five or so boxes of Betty Crocker cookie mixes. If you leave church with a box, you are supposed to call up a boy/girl to bake it with and then bring it for the ward to eat at the dessert night. It's actually quite the idea, and they have explained to everyone countless times that if someone calls you up to bake cookies, don't worry and freak out, it's not a date. :)

So today I was assigned a box--a sugar cookie mix--and with it came the assignment to call up and ask someone to bake it with me. I asked Matt, one of the most hilarious people I have met at BYU, and together we baked cookies. It was an unforgettable experience. We about burned down the apartment twice because we burnt one batch to the crisp and then caught the other on fire.

We threw it in the sink, so it became a soggy, reeking mess. The smoke probably took a couple years off of my life, and it woke my roommates up from their Sunday naps. Luckily, I had an extra brownie mix in the pantry, which was the key to our success because you can't tell if you burn brownies because they are already brown. :)

We brought a plate of brownies and frosted black cookies to distribute to the ward with pride.

YARRG!

Posted by Adam

What started off as seeming like an average, slow-paced, kick back and relax sort of afternoon suddenly changed when our friend from across the stairwell, Stuart, barges in and what to our surprise, he's wearing a pirate costume that cost him seven bucks at various thrift store locations. So my roommate Mike, who--if pirate-ing was a major he'd definitely be accepted into the program--without delay runs into our room and throws on his coveted pirate costume, which he has worn every Halloween since seventh grade, or at least since I've known him.

Well I, being one shrunken head short of a pirate costume, decided that I might as well impersonate a superhero, so I fashioned a cape out of a towel, threw on my favorite paper plumbers hat, and as weapons, I stationed a spare toothbrush and a recently purchased plunger in my holster.

Well, now that we're looking so savvy, what better to do than flaunt ourselves around the Wyview parking lot. Well, one thing led to another and within no time we had about 15 people in the parking lot, sword fighting and swashbuckling in anyway they could, dressed up in various ways as pirates or superheroes. (The picture only shows about half of the total amount.)

It soon became apparent that this motley crew of scallywags soon would have to take to the high seas of University Parkway, so I commandeered a scooter, with a woman on the back, and drove proudly through the streets with our large scale Jolly-Roger/Skull and Crossbones flag sailing right beind us. We passed people on the street and gave them a friendly "YARRRRRG!!" You'd be amazed what kind of attention a skull and crossbones can get a person.

Well the rest of our crew finally arrrrr-ived at the Creamery on Ninth, where we pillaged and plundered some gummy bears, and then with my super-saliva, we strategically stuck the gummies all over a certain friend's vessel.

But our work was not done for the night, we had one more task. What self-respecting pirate movie could end without an epic fight scene between Captain Jack Sparrow and a superhero. Sadly Sparrow prevailed, but as you see in the video, superheroes have an extra spirt of life that can only lead to another week's sequel . . . TO BE CONTINUED!