My Last Will and Testament

Blogging is good. Blogging is great. Blogging is like the easy-bake cookies I'm glad that I ate. (Yes, we really do have roommate baking nights with easy-bake ovens. We know, we're pretty cool.)

Roommate Cook-Off... Easy-Bake Style

Really though, blogging actually is a good thing. It's a great way to throw ideas out there, relive interesting stories, and have a small say in the world. There's always those really obnoxious ladies (you know the Zumba-crazy-mom types) that have blogs where they discuss things that are super obnoxious-- like really obnoxious-- but when blogs are done right, they are great.

Having the experience to blog has been good for me. I always love telling stories, so that part of having a blog was completely in my comfort zone. The harder part definitely for me was discussing gospel topics. I love the gospel of course and I love talking about it with others, but by others I pretty much mean other members. I get STRESSED about sharing the gospel super openly with other people. Don't get me wrong, I'm good with talking about the gospel if I know someone is interested, but I have a hard time putting myself out there completely. (Obviously something I will have to work on.)

So thank goodness for some assignments that made me put myself out there! Blogging can be hard, but it's a good thing and a definite way to share the gospel and share personal stories. Yay for blogging!

My Life as a Vagabond: By Mickelle Stevens

Last night for FHE my ward rode the train up to Salt Lake to see the lights at temple square. My first time riding the Front Runner, I was pretty psyched. The train ride was so cool!.. for the first five minutes until we realized how slow it goes. And then it was just kinda cool.

We got to the temple and were told to meet back at 8:45 to catch the Trax back to the station. (Quick side-note: my uncle is the first counselor in the Bishopric of our student ward and he was the one who told us to meet at 8:45) The temple was great, as usual. I walked around with my sister and her roommate. Good times were had by all. Around 8:40 we came back to the meeting place only to find that nobody --- NOBODY --- was there. We soon found out we were too late and that we needed to run to the Trax. Soooo we ran. We got to the Trax right as they were pulling out at which point my sister's roommate ran across the tracks right in front of the train (not sure what she was thinking that would accomplish).

We started waiting for the next one but then decided we needed to use the bathroom. We searched forever for a bathroom. We found one, but we looked for so long that we missed the next trolley. So we waited for the next one. We got on and then realized we didn't know where to get off. We asked around and then found out we were on the wrong trolley so we got off and started waiting for another one. We waited and waited and found out the original trolley would have taken us to the right place as well.

We waited some more and then we finally caught the right one and made it to the train station. At the train station we had half an hour to wait for the next train to Provo. Basically, we got home two hours later than we were supposed to and I was about ready to just jump on the nearest train and ride away wherever it took me.

In essence, never travel with a Stevens because bad things will happen. But on the bright side, we made a lot of new friends. We met Bagpipe Bob, Homeless Michael, Creeped-out Don, Twin Josh and Twin Ben, Australian Jonathon, Layton (not from Layton), and Catch-Phrase Hillary.

From Brace Face to Mariachi

Playing the trumpet has been a long and at times frustrating process. I began as a fifth grader, just like anybody else. The difference is that I began playing trumpet in a band of about seven. There were six clarinets and me-- one fearless trumpet. Coming from the oldest still running elementary school in Montana, there were very few in my classes all throughout my years at the small country school. Band was not a big part of the learning experience in the same way other things were. Because of problems with music staff and the recent acquiring of braces (braces and trumpets blend in a painful way that should not be experienced), I went on to high school hardly being able to play ten notes on my good old trumpet.

I still had two years of braces to struggle through but my music teacher in high school was a different story to what I was used to. A little crazed at times, Mr. Ruff began pushing me harder than I had been pushed in a long time. He was the type that would throw markers across the room to get somebody's attention, and often he would threaten me with breaking my pinky finger if I did not play louder (he was kidding of course.. I think).

Festival came around and I got put into a small ensemble with the two other worst trumpets in the band. These two weren't bad from lack of talent or having braces, but because they were the biggest screw balls on earth. I lasted a day before I begged Mr. Ruff for a solo in the festival over a trio with those two.

Weeks later I found myself in front of a big group of friends and family and a judge-- all waiting to hear my lovely brace-mouth try to string a few notes together. To my surprise, my judge liked my work. He told me I showed talent and should be taking private lessons to reach my true potential... in hindsight, Mr. Ruff probably bribed him in order to get me to take it more seriously. Nevertheless I did start practicing more. I began taking lessons from Mr. Ruff once a week. Within a year I was first trumpet in Pep Band, Symphonic Band, and Jazz Band. I BEGAN TO LOVE THE TRUMPET. And Mr. Ruff quickly became my favorite teacher. Thank goodness for a little persistence!

When I go home for summers I play in a community band with Mr. Ruff now and while I'm at school during winter semesters I play in the university band. Trumpet is arguably the best ever.

"Just Another One of the Trumpet Chicks"

Peruvian Mishaps

A little over a year ago my familia went to Peru to pick up my now very Peruvian sister from her mission. We told her we would be coming down a couple days later than we actually did because we decided to surprise her at her ward's church down there on Father's Day. Surprising her and picking her up was so wonderful, but there were so many other experiences besides just that.

The trip was amazing. Hands down. The little touches of "typical family vacation" made it memorable....

My family all knows Spanish super well... except for me. Okay, well I know it, but I don't speak it well. At all. The first step into the international airport wing was culture shock. On the outside I was all smooth as butter, but on the inside I'm thinking, "AUUUUGggggghhh! Where are all these foreigners coming from!!!! (when in fact I
was the foreigner)" I had to carry the carry on bag with the food in it including an opened package of jerky. I walked along as calmly as I could while silently freaking out because of all the scary looking Peruvian airplane guards. As I walked I began to notice something following me from the corner of my eye. One of the guard dogs smelled my jerky and was following me around the airport, a guard following along with the leash. This is the point when I started freaking out... more. The guard was pretty suspicious and I had to pretty much empty my entire bag in front of him. My family who had not noticed walked on without me, leaving me to be lost in a Peruvian airport where I couldn't speak a word. Moral of the story.. never eat jerky.

In one of the towns we visited I got my first chance to see the ocean. Over-excited, I ran down to the shore to collect shells by the water. Not paying attention, I got quite a shock when a giant wave came up and smacked me, soaking any and every place imaginable. I got to walk in sopping wet clothes for the rest of the night while we visited my sister's old converts. Contrary to perhaps popular belief, Peru does have a winter, and its winter is CHILLY! But I wasn't the only uncomfortable one. While walking along, my padre got smacked with some bird poop right on his shoulder. He didn't notice it until my mom felt it.

The shells I had collected I put in the carry on bag I had been put in charge of. Little did I know that shells from the ocean are extremely stinky and do not do well in enclosed places, especially with food. My sister got quite the surprise when she bit into a granola bar that had been in the smelly fishy bag. Apparently fish granola bars aren't as delectable. Weirdly... she still ate it.

Of course I could go on and on about story after story on this Peruvian escapade, but that would take days. There's nothing like being the dork in a new country, and there's no greater experience.

All Full of Hot Air

When I am at home I have the interesting experience of working for a hot air balloon company. There are a lot of things that make this job interesting. First off, of course is the fact that it deals with hot air balloons. Big, beautiful balloons, floating through the air, all controlled by little pulleys and ropes and fueled by the hot, hot propane burners (I always like watching the spiders that crawl into the balloon scuttle away and then curl from the heat... even though that's super morbid.) Second, I'm generally the only girl ever working on the crew. Third, my two bosses are a little on the crazy side. I guess you would have to be to live off the kind of work they do (high stress and not a steady earner).

Work at this job means early mornings (waking up around 3:30-4:00 depending on sunrise and travel time to launch site) and lots of lifting, running, rolling under barbed wire fences, and being wind-born on a regular basis while attempting to yank the balloon into the right direction. Weather is of utmost importance and as the winds change and become warm with day, funnel currents called thermals pretty much mean the balloon could potentially crash and burn and die if the balloon is not brought down immediately (which would mean no paycheck and lots of screaming from the crazy bosses...). Other hazards with weather come when the wind blows the balloon in the wrong direction.

 One morning the winds changed while the balloon was in the air, making the balloon go toward the mountains (mountains = BAD). My boss started screaming over the intercom for us to come get him. For some reason I was the only one on the crew that wasn't a newbie that day... and the two big guys got stuck in the chase back in a different field. I ended up in the driver's seat with my boss screaming for me to "GUN IT!!!!" So... I did. We went bouncing along at full speed through hay fields, chasing toward the mountainside. We jerked to a stop and I began running to the balloon, dropping under barbed fences and rolling through dust. My other boss(the one piloting the balloon) threw down the leash to the balloon and I was supposed to try to stop the balloon, single-handedly, from going into the trees and mountainside. Needless to say, I went flying... and pretty much thought I was going to die right there, dangling from a hot air balloon.

And that's pretty much the ballooning experience in a nutshell. I also work for a chocolate factory back home and BYU Campus Floral here at school. But those don't entail the same kind of adventures... maybe that's a good thing?

Embarrassing Moments as Seen at BYU

BYU is a vast world of different backgrounds all mashed into one little bubble of people that generally think and act in about the same way.  People watching may not be the same experience it is in the hippie town of back home Missoula, Montana, but it nevertheless holds no disappointment.

In the midst of many interesting happenings, the most life changing to watch are the embarrassing ones, hands down. And well, let's just say I would be an impeccably good paparazzi. Just to give a taste of my abilities, I'll list a few gems:

• One morning walking to class I looked up in front of me to see a student dry heaving/puking right in the middle of my path. I walk by quickly only to realize it was somebody I knew... so naturally I walked more quickly. Not even three seconds later I glanced up again to watch(I'm not even kidding you I watched the entire tragedy) another boy walking in front of me wet his pants. Once the realization hit him, I watched as he ran full speed to the nearest bathroom.  

• Sitting in my math class, being my regular "extremely studious" self, the kid sitting by me started cursing under his breath and gasping and holding his nose. Thinking this was regular calculus behavior I ignored him until the grunting noises became impossible to ignore. He promptly became desperate and ran out of the room, his bloody nose dripping EVERYWHERE. PROBABLY ALL OVER MY BACKPACK... (still getting over this)

• The other night I was walking to the sculpture lab to work on one of my sculptures outside of class. I walked in to find a "figure sculpting" class going on. By "figure sculpting" I mean the type of class where a model stands in front of the class very scantily clad... Well anyway, I walk in only to get an eye-full and then awkwardly make eye contact with the male model who I suddenly realize I know!!!!! On the bright side, he was definitely the more embarrassed out of the both of us.

There's nothing but excitement here at BYU and there's nothing like getting the COMPLETE experience. 

Photoshopping Child Prodigy

You’d think being in a major like Electrical Engineering and having been through Computer Science courses (notice the plural use there) that I would be some technological genius, right? Wrong!

Let me tell you about the computer science classes I took. They were the most stressful things of my life. And with some of the most interesting people I will probably ever meet. I was one of the only girls in a sea of overly excited computer geeks. I’m not kidding, there’s a lot of excitement down in those labs. I would spend about fifteen hours a week down with the programmers. And it was oh so fun. As it turns out, it is a little harder than you would think to learn a coding language and write a computer program weekly without a single error using that coding language you do not really know.

From my numerous computer lab bonding time, I have discovered my secret skill.  I figured out that what I lacked in coding super-geniousness, I pretty much rock at in photoshopping. I took up the skill this summer and figure I probably have a really great career in it someday. I’d say I have some pretty good prospects, even if the whole coding thing doesn’t work out. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty much a Microsoft Paint whiz kid, but I don’t want to brag or anything…

Pictured Above: "How I Spent my Summer"

Pictured Above: "Viking Triple Date"