When It Rains, It Pours

And so it has begun. College. I have been moved out of my childhood home for just over three weeks now, and have already experienced so many little "adventures."

My main concern with moving out was whether or not I would like my roommates. I lucked-out big time in that perspective, though. Where I live, there are six bedrooms which means six roommates in one itty bitty living space. Don't get me wrong, we still have our disputes over who left out their dishes last night, but for the most part, we get along rather nicely.

The best part about college is definitely the parties. Every weekend, someone's throwing a huge dance party somewhere. My favorite was the one entitled "Foam Dance." It was a huge outdoor party where the whole floor was practically waist-deep in bubbly foam and Lil Wayne blared from the speakers so loudly the whole block shook. Needless to say, I did a lot of dancing and made a lot of friends. Unfortunately, I suffered some losses as well. Mid-way through the dance, my shoes fell off, lost forever in the depth of the bubbles, along with my chapstick. All and all, it was a very pleasant evening.

Class is a whole lot more tolerable than high school ever was. Everyone in college seems to mind their own business, which is totally what I'm about. I auditioned for my school's Ballroom Dance team, and made it. Dance is easily my favorite class.

The boys are a whole lot different than they ever were in high school, too. In the three weeks i've been here, two young suitors have already brought me flowers. (Which are great for decoration and making the kitchen and living room area feel more "homely") I've been on a couple super fun dates complete with dinners, movies, and city-gazing from Dixie Rock.

It's not all about fun, though. A girl's gotta eat. So I got myself a job at the local frozen yogurt shop. The perks of my job include a 50% discount off frozen yogurt (which I can hardly stand to consume anymore) and a super cute uniform.

It was smooth sailing for the first two weeks, but then, disaster struck. It started with a minor and ignorable left-ear pain. But the irritability increased drastically day by day. Finally, it got to the point where I was forced to go to the instacare and pay 75 bucks to see a doctor. He gave me meds which took care of the one-sided ailment, but the next day, the pain crossed to the other side. So there I was, back in the doctors' office for the second time that week. After a full day of rest, I could bare it no longer. 

Luckily, this all occurred over labor day weekend, so my mom and sister were able to travel down to take care of me. We went in for a third doctors visit where I was instructed to go to the ER for an IV of antibiotics. Now, my list of irrational fears is rather short, but one of the sparse items on this list is needles. And I was poked with two of them in one day. 

I decided it would be best for me to return home for the remainder of my weekend, so I tagged along with my family for the five-hour drive home. I was only there for a day or two, and was flown back home.

The adventure doesn't end there, unfortunately. The plane ride was short, and I had no trouble finding my luggage, so I dragged it to my car and began driving toward home. The speed limit was rather high on the road connecting to the freeway. I was driving along when the sign pointing toward home quickly approached, instructing me to make a right turn. I suddenly slowed my car in order to make the turn, but I did not slow down enough, and my car hit a curb and ended up stuck in the red sand on the side of the freeway. It was then towed, and I was taken home by the tow truck guy.

So here I am, carless, and not exactly the picture of health. But on the positive side, I was not harmed during my incident with my vehicle, and I have lovely roommates who are willing to help transport me from place to place until my car gets fixed. And, in all seriousness, things probably can't get much worse than that. So now I'm prepared for virtually anything.

There's nothing left to do but to carry on. And that's exactly what I'm doing for the time being. Things will eventually work themselves out, right?

We'll just have to wait and see.

-Little Miss Mulish

Your Dad's Coming?!

Let me tell you a story about how my Saturday night went. I asked my Facebook friends earlier that day if anyone would accompany me to see the new Man of Steel movie. I follow a strict, first-come-first-serve policy, so the first person to respond to my post was the one I went with. My first respondent, oh, let's call him Brad, was a distant friend of mine whom I dated on and off last summer. I asked him what time he'd like to go, and the first thing he said was, "Am I paying for you?" Now,  i'm fine with paying my own way, plus that would disqualify this event of being a date, right? Which means I wasn't obligated to be flirty or hold hands, or have any physical contact, for that matter.Just the way I liked it. I just feel like he could have asked me to pay for myself in a more polite manner. Nevertheless, I told him I'd pay for my ticket. We decided on a meeting time and place, and as usual, I was right on time. But no, not Brad. Let's just say he has no sense of punctuality. I waited a HALF HOUR for him to arrive. And when he did, he had two friends with him. The four of us went in to the movie theater to purchase our tickets, but one of the friends, whom I found out later was his brother, suggested that we go see Man of Steel in 3D. I objected to that idea for more reasons than one. First of all, I hate 3D movies. They make me dizzy, and my eyelashes always brush against the lenses of those obnoxious glasses you have to wear. Second of all, the movie didn't start for another two hours. Yet, here I was, confused and rather frustrated, purchasing a thirteen-dollar ticket for the Superman movie. Brad purchased two tickets, and I gave him a quizzical look. That was when he decided to mention that his father would be watching the movie with us.

Since we had two hours to kill before the movie started, we went to Brad's house to pass the time. Brad and his brother played some pathetically violent video game, and I sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Brad grew bored of the video game, though, and grabbed me by the chin and tried to kiss me. I quickly turned my face, and a confused look spread across his face. He then asked me, "Why aren't you attracted to me?" with a whimpering tone to his voice. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not punch him in the throat, so instead, I shrugged and said nothing at all.  But two hours came and went, however, more slowly than I would have liked, and the four of us; Brad, Brad's brother, Brad's dad, and I, drove back to the theater. At this point, I regretted not going to see the movie all by myself. We took our seats, and immediately, Brad pulled out his phone. After a few minutes of twiddling his thumbs, Brad showed me his phone. On the screen was a text message conversation between him and some girl. She messaged him, "You are sooooooo hot." A smile stretched across Brad's face and he began showing me pictures of this girl. I had had enough. I was steaming with such a high concentration of anger that I could feel it in my cheeks, so without thinking, I said to him, "Y'know what, She can have my seat." Then, just as surprised by my words as he probably was, I stood up, picked up my purse, and walked out of the theater without looking back.

I learned a few things that night. One, no one is worth waiting a half an hour at a theater for. Two, video games are so stupid that you can literally feel your IQ dropping just by watching a couple of dweebs play them. Three, Brad is stupid if he thinks he can kiss me without at least buying my movie ticked for me. And four, I should probably stick to doing things by myself.

This is just a classic example of why my tolerance for people is so low.

My next post will be a little less cynical, I promise.(:

Once again, thanks for reading, and stay with me!

Little Miss Mulish

A House Full of Estrogen

I don't know what I would do without my two sisters. I have jokingly, and repeatedly said in the past, that I wish I were an only child, but in all honesty, I think I would hate that. Luckily, I was blessed with two younger sisters to simultaneously keep me company, and drive me to the desire to punch them in the throat. 

There they are. Aren't they beauties? The older of the two, McCall, is fifteen years old. She's absolutely beautiful, and I must admit, I'm jealous of her sometimes. You can't tell in this photo, but she has a whopping 3 inches on me, height-wise. She's also super athletic. She plays soccer on a competition team. So as a re-cap, she got all the "favorable" genes. Which is why I stick to the claim that I am adopted. Because we have none of the aforementioned traits in common. 

Even though we're as different as different can be, McCall and I have been best friends since the day she terminated my being an only child. We are involved in many assorted activities including watching Duck Dynasty marathons, raiding the sales rack at Forever 21, and late-night McDonald's runs for 50 piece chicken nuggets. I'm quite fond of her, 72% of the time. 

My baby sister's name is Macee. She and I are a decade apart in age, which makes it hard for us to be engaged in each others' lives. She's quite the character, though, and is bursting with personality. It's safe to assume she got that from me.(; She's always out playing with the neighborhood kids, and is quite the popular kid around these parts. Again, a "favorable" trait that seems to have skipped me. 

Sometimes I wonder how my dad tolerates a house full of girls. After several years of experience, i'm sure he's grown used to it, but we don't exactly make it easy with our roller-coaster emotions and fist-fights over borrowed clothing. He's the best dad a girl could ask for, though, which is why all three of us are daddy's girls. 

This is him and I, at my graduation last month. (AKA the best day of my life up to this point) 

Everyone says that I look exactly like my mom. As I mentioned in my Intro post, my mom is a German. She's a very strongly opinionated, independent, outspoken woman, just like me. Since we are so similar, personality-wise, we butt-heads fairly frequently. Sometimes, we argue just for the sake of arguing. But she has an unfair advantage, because she argues in German. And if you've ever heard an angry woman yelling at you in German, you'll know just how scary that can be, and it will shut you up pretty fast.  Even though we don't always get along in perfect harmony, my mom is my best friend. We have grown really close over the past few years and I don't think I could have gotten through the tough, adolescent years without her. 

Here's me and my cute mom on the night of my Junior Prom. 

Now you're all familiar with the people I've been 'rooming' with since I was born.(: 

Thank you, dear reader, for keeping updated.

Little Miss Mulish

Intro

Okay, how would I properly start one of these things? I suppose i'll start by introducing myself. I'm Maddie; fresh high school graduate, first of three daughters, sister, closet-obsessed fangirl of Leonardo Dicaprio.

That's me, up there. A photo from my senior-picture photo shoot. Now let's get to the part where I explain the name of my blog, and what it all means. Let's take it one word at a time. The "Little" part comes from my petite stature of 5'2'' and of course, the "Miss" part indicates that I am an unmarried female. Now, I doubt most of you have heard the word "Mulish" in everyday language. Let me just say,  I'm one for using bigger words that no one has ever heard of to make my language sound more sophisticated. I knew I wanted to include in my blog name something about my stubborn, headstrong nature, so naturally, I went to thesaurus.com and typed in the word "stubborn",  Which is where I stumbled upon the word "mulish." I'd say my blog name gives a fairly broad description of myself.(: 

As I mentioned earlier, I just graduated from high school. And let me tell you, I'm just happy I made it out alive. Let's just say high school was never a place where I could thrive. I never had many friends, and I'd like to blame that on my abnormally low tolerance for people. Everyone had their "cliques" since they were in elementary school, and newcomers were not welcome. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not shy. I'm actually a very talkative and outgoing individual. I just chose not to immerse myself in the commiserable drama that comes with high school students. So for the past 4 years, it's basically been me, myself, and I. 

Well, not entirely. I have my family, of course. I come from a relatively close-knit family. I am the oldest of three girls. My mom is German, and moved here, to Utah, when she was eighteen years old. She met my dad on their LDS missions in Germany, they married, and 20 years and three kids later, here we are. The Tingey Family of 5. 

Now that I've survived the four hardest years of my life, (high school) I thought i'd start documenting the best years of my life. So stick with me here as I try to figure out just exactly what I'm going to do with myself. 

Thanks for reading(: 

Little Miss Mulish