People live in Iceland? And there's one that sings?

So there's something about seeing an Icelandic guy singing falsetto and dancing around in a weird head dress thing that just hits the spot for me. Granted, I've only seen this once, but it really left a good impression. It happened last Friday. There, surrounded by guys likely named Elliston wearing black turtlenecks and accompanied by their skinny girlfriends, I beheld Jonsi. It was a pretty jawesome concert. It did also remind me though, that I've been in Utah for quite a while. That is, I'm not used to the young angst-filled crowds of aggressively individualistic hippy types like I used to be. Miss it.

So yeah, the thing was good and artsy. For one of the songs, they had this cool movie they played in the background of a wolf chasing a deer, and then the deer changed into a bird, and then the wolf changed into a hawk, and then the deer changed back into a deer, and the wolf changed back to his wolfy self, and then the deer decided to grow horns and just own the wolf... Were I the deer I probably would've busted out those horns earlier and saved myself the stress. Anyways, the visuals were pretty cool.

Also, Jonsi, the singer, decided to don a head dress for the encore. For an idea of what I'm talking about, check out this bundle of interesting below.

...Yup. I liked it.

So as a kid who already enjoys foreign movies and modern art (in small doses...) chalk this up for another step towards buying a black turtleneck.

Now you think, this is great, but Bryce, the bigger issue is, "what do you think about frozen brownies?"

They're absolutely fantastic. Though the first thing I hear when I suggest this is, "aren't they all hard?" Yes. Duh. Do you have a magic freezer that freezes things but keeps them soft? The solution is that you don't just chomp down on it as if it wasn't frozen. Anyways, I don't mean to be negative about this, but really just share my joy of something that I love with the rest of the world. Freeze some.

Would you marry him?

I sometimes tell people that I don't think I entertain anyone more than myself. I mean, every now and then I'll be doing something that maybe everyone else doesn't get, but I think it's hilarious (Lame? Maybe.). That makes me sound like a complete weirdo, so here's an example to make me look a little more normal.

When I'm hanging out with a group of girls and one of them mentions that they recently went on or will go on a first date, I'm always quick to jump in with this question— Well, do you think you could marry him?

Now some brief commentary. The first time I asked this, I thought everyone would just start laughing, and the girl I asked it would blush, or call me ridiculous or something. Because it does seem ridiculous, right? Right?

Anyways, back to that question. As something that causes me deep consternation, I have never once had some girl just laugh in my face. It's almost always the same response— a pensive look up, and then a sincere response. The responses have varied. Most have been "Maaaaybe" (perhaps you're not sure because you have no idea who this person is... I mean, I'm not Dr. Phil, but I'm just sayin') and I also get the occasional "yeah" or a laugh and "never!"

What? Who has decided after, or even before one date that they can marry that person? Are we that shallow? Or that crazy? Has society come to this? Have I myself thought that I could marry Penelope Cruz after seeing her smile on David Letterman? I think the answers are maybe a little more than we would want to know. (yes)

So that's just some food for thought. And as some dessert for thought, the LSAT is over. I don't care if I get a 121, I will not take that test again (though I might end my life if i saw that score...). Now I just get to wait three weeks for my score to come in. I mean, the football off-season is like 8 months, so three weeks can't be too bad.

An Autobiography for the Last 8 Months

I figure if I had anything to do with 15 minutes to do with my life, I'd want to hear about myself. So it's only natural that other people do too. Search no more—here it is.

I've been practicing for the LSAT since February (which is the strangest-spelled month of them all. We say Feb-no R-uary and write febRuary. Anyways...). I've done around 35 practice tests so far (3 hours a piece), plus countless hours of drilling and attending class while neglecting classes, friends, and Sportscenter. Because of that, I have possibly one of the most intimate

knowledges of a very quiet section on the first floor of the Harold B. Lee Library that anyone in this school ever has, and I've come to despise anyone coming down there and making noise, such as breathing.

I also am growing in my paranoia about the test. I now wear a certain pair of shoes each time I take it, but take them off for the first three sections and put them on for the next two. I onlylisten to songs with the simplest of melodies before taking a test, like Dynamite by Taio Cruz, because i'm bound to have a song get stuck in my head and pray that it's not a distracting one (e.g.- Phantom of the Opera. Instead of thinking how arguments were flawed, I was trying to remember the words to "Masquerade." It was a terrible test.) I think I'm narrowing it down to wearing a certain pair of jeans, and possibly a specific shirt too. I'm also terrified that something traumatic will happen before the test, such as instantaneously going bald. I wouldn't even be mad at instantaneously being bald, I'd just be absolutely livid that it happened before my test.

In all though, prepping for the LSAT has been a great experience. Even though I could've easily learned a 3rd language with that effort, it's been an opportunity for me to exhibit my work ethic to, well, really, to just myself. It also proved that I have the ability to excel and improve in something genuinely difficult. Hopefully I can just do well on October 9th (October- a normally spelled month) when it comes down to it, so I can go to UW.

I coached a tee-ball team too, but that's already been documented.

School has started again. For my Spanish literature class, I decided to take a teacher who I knew was more difficult, but who I thought just taught a superior class, through insights and materials, than anyone else. Let me repeat that. I, of my own volition and will, chose a teacher who I knew would be harder than others.

I'm just kinda waiting to be translated to heaven right now for my shocking maturity...

Didn't happen. Anyways, that class, to no-one's surprise, is tough. My other classes—poetry, composition, business (smarminess), religion—are not too bad. But I'm always reminded how much I like my major.

In addition to that, I'm still working. It's for the Multicultural Office (of course I can be in there even though i'm white) writing for the Eagle's Eye. I have been promoted to Editor-in-total-awesomeness-and-chief recently though, which brings more responsibility and... well, no co-current pay increase. But I enjoy the extra responsibility and the opportunity to write Editor-in-Chief on my law school applications.

And dating! Yes! Dating! Well, like a game of baseball in the 14th inning, it actually can be exciting at times but mostly you just wish it was already over, and everyone, when they're being honest with themselves, wants to just leave the stadium, drive home, and sleep.

Wow. That baseball analogy was good. When I use that again in real life, act like you heard it for the first time. And laugh.

Speaking of laughter, I want to mention my car. It's a 94 Buick, and it's just not as mighty as it once was. I tried to drive up to a ski resort the other day, and it started misfiring and only going 10 m.p.h. until finally I pulled over and it started smoking like... well, an analogy is not coming to me, but it started smoking like a 94 Buick when it's done trying. I'll put "large hills" on things not to attempt with it.

If you're a fervent follower of this blog (I'm doubtful...), than you already know all my friends are married. So I decided with one year left at BYU, I'd just stay in the same complex and move upstairs, keepin' things simple. My new roommates turned out to be great, and we always hit the clubs on Friday nights and get hyphy. Kidding. But yeah, they're nice guys.

New ward too. I'm quickly, and unintentionally, establishing myself as the "funny guy." Apparently I'm already the "funny guy" to some. This comes with some pressure. I'm not the stand-up comedian kind of funny, so I think if people come with that expectation, it'll be hard to please them. It's more of a smoldering, sexy kind of funny, and that really doesn't come out until I know the person more. And anyways, personally, I'd prefer to be known as "that really smart guy," or "the guy that's just in general great to be around," or just "the Situation." Someday...

So anyways, I gave a talk in church, hit some funny notes, and sat down. I try to be funny to hide the fact that I'm so nervous that I'm shaking up at the podium. I had people telling me I'm funny the rest of the day. One guy even repeated some of the things that I had said, as if their hilarity had escaped me. Really, it's fine being the funny guy, but it's just so one-dimensional. Maybe if I work on it, "Renaissance man" will catch on.

GOODNESS. I think that took up at least 10 minutes of your time. It's late at night, I really had a lot on my mind and really, writing like this is kinda therapeutic. I don't have to think about a thesis and all that jazz, it just kinda comes. But yeah, here you go Elder (Brandon) Pedersen, this is the best response you'll ever get to writing "how's life?" on a Facebook wall. Ever. And stay away from the wax... Trust me, it hurts.

I Belong to the West Coast

I can remember when I stopped plotting to transfer to UCSB my freshman year here at BYU. It was at Thanksgiving. The fact that everyone here was Mormon wasn't freaking me out quite as much as when I had arrived, and also, everyone I knew from Utah invited me to go eat Thanksgiving dinner with them and their family. Really nice, I think. So anyways, that outpouring of brotherly love preempted a sudden flight to California.

Now that I'm back from my mission, I really like BYU. The girls here are clean, it's the means by which the greatest football team ever can exist, and my friends aren't drunk and puking. Like ever. But every time I go back to the West Coast, It just feels right. Most recently, this happened in both Portland and Seattle, but it's true for all of it. Well, let me qualify that. SoCal isn't really my thing. I have nothing against beaches and sunshine. In fact, I really like them, but I just am smitten with the hippy-esque, tattooed, multiple pierced, granola, far-left people from SF on north. I'm also a big fan of the grassy hills and forests. It's just a nice thing to have.

So yeah, going to Grad School is nice that way. I can (to some extent) control where I end up. I don't really know for sure where that'll happen, when I'm honest with myself, but I hope it works out like I want it to.

Rad/Super un-rad

So, in life recently things have been boiling down to two different categories for me- Rad, and super un-rad.

Let me break it down.

RAD

- UW. Purple has never been part of my color wheel, but it might be in a couple months here. I was able to run over to the Law School over there, and man, it's nice. I was also able to check out the campus too, and while I was laying down in the quad between six stately buildings, on a cloudless day with the sun lazily dripping in through the leaves of the shady tree i was laying under, i thought, "If God doesn't want me to go here, He really dropped the ball today."

Gates Hall, or, the law school.

The whole campus looks how I'd always imagine a campus would look like. Not that I dislike BYU's immaculate stretch of cemented property, but UW had those classic buildings with ornate facades, long shady paths across green, slightly over-grown lawns, awe-inspiring views and the water just a block from campus. As well as a super nice-looking law school.

RAD

- BYU football starts up soon. Besides giving my life deep significance, it also means that each Saturday for the next few months I'll have something that directs unparalleled joy into my life. The only potential downside to this is the possibility that they could lose a game, which often leads to an invasive sense of ennui for the following week.

RAD

- Portland. Rip City is really looking great. First time I've really been there, and I just like that whole area. I've decided I love greenery and trees with the occasional mountain (Pacific Northwest anyone?) and Portland is just that. Also, word is that it doesn't rain quite as much as it does in Seattle, which I'm sure loses it's novelty after three weeks of downpour.

SUPER UN-RAD

- Moving. So around 2:30 Friday morning, when I was trying to put the closet door back together for the third time and it just fell apart right when I thought I had it, I may or may not have wanted to sit down on the floor and sob for 20 seconds before falling into a deep sleep and forget about waking up for an 8 a.m. flight. That I instead simply muttered something about how dumb closet doors are and fell asleep in my bed shows the mettle i'm made of. Really though, the whole process kinda stunk and took forever, and was possibly exacerbated by an idyll visit to In-N-Out about midway through it. I made it though.

SUPER UN-RAD

- KFC. I just can't stand it. I know I eat greasy, unhealthy and potentially life-threatening foods on a regular basis (and even revel in the fact) but I just despise that jolly colonel and his greasy bags chuck full of fried who-knows-what.

SUPER UN-RAD

- All my friends are married. To look on the bright side, I'm getting really good at two things; being the focus of attention of two people when I go visit one of my buddies and their respective wife, and finding, with ever-increasing wit and hilarity, ways to respond to the question, "Well, when is it your turn Bryce?" But on the other side, there's a moment after my friends are eternally sealed to their better half and they're joking around with the broskis, when I think- It just won't be the same. And it's true. So even though I keep losing about two friends a year, the prospect of instantaneously gaining 5 or 6 friends again when i get married (someday) is pretty exciting.

A couple of un-hitched guys looking at the guy who just got hitched.

And a brief aside- 1- I love going to these weddings. They're way fun and I think it's great to support my friends. 2- Dan, you're still my friend even if you aren't married. I'm just generalizing here.

The Fat is the Best Part

Having worked as a writer since January, and being a student who considers his strong suit to be writing, much fuss has been made over editing out "fat." I'll illustrate my position on this with a largely irrelevant analogy. Fat in writing is like fat in meat. When I was a child, I generally despised this fat because Americans don't know how to cook fat (although whatever my mother cooked was great). Or maybe its just that fat is just not appropriate for American meals. Whatever. When I went to Argentina, I discovered that fat was God's gift to those who truly loved meat. It's slightly crunchy almost, and full of flavor. You end up wanting a bit on each bite, and in your dreams steaks dance across your subconscious.

I've also found it is the same in writing. There are those things that just cannot abide fat, or perhaps just can't include it because of the preferences of those eating it. Journalism, I think, would fall into this category. It's all about opening up the reader's mouth and turning on a fire hose. Same deal with academic papers. Really though, that would be like having fat on a tomato. Just something you don't want to be eating in the first place. But anyways, with literature I really do enjoy that bit of fat. When the prose is just something lyrical and beautiful (and well done), sometimes it seems that the novel is merely the catalyst of bringing together that kind of writing, instead of the other way around. So openly, I’ll admit I love literature that is a bit indulgent. I love the prepositions. I love the occasional passive sentence. I love the half-page descriptions of sunsets draining the sky of color, the feeling of the wind whispering to you, the churning of a train’s wheels on smooth steel tracks, and whatever else I haven’t experienced again on the pages of a book.

Just as long as an Argentine cooks it.

T-ball = Fiery competition.

You could pass someone on the street, and not even realize that they are the greatest T-ball coach to grace this earth.

Thats what i tell myself, because i would expect if it were not true, throngs of admirers would be suffocating me with plaques, keys to the city and trophies that you have to lift with both hands. I feel that i was that much of a success as a T-ball coach.

It was also the funnest thing ever. It was a bunch of 5 year olds (only a couple of them are pictured here, but they're some of my favorites.) who were learning how to play. I was in charge of teaching them how to bat, specifically, but we all kinda did everything. They would say the funniest things, including calling me "teacher," or saying, "you're my favorite coach in town. I LIKE you." (girl, emma, farthest to the left) or, "coach, my hand is sweaty."

Now that T-ball is through, summer has been a lot of work and a lot of LSAT. The LSAT is like a mighty bronco, that... nevermind. It's tough, but it doesn't seem unbeatable.

In between doing all that, i've done some cool stuff this summer. Like bike riding, hiking, learning how to play tennis, watching fireworks, seeing a destruction derby, and some other stuff that's not coming to my mind right now. Anyways, it really has been a while, and i thought i needed to jump back on the horse, even if it's a little thing.