Everything is Changing and I Still Feel Like a (Moaning) Teenager

If I were to participate in a survey in relation to dealing with changes, I would feel intensely unsure as to whether I ought to declare a fondness or overwhelming dislike for it because I seriously don't know. Just like my educational-related choices about either attending university to study Law or breaking into the journalism industry as soon as I finish the last question on my English A-level exam (there is no doubt about it now: I will take my A-levels, despite the French one being commonly described as torturous), my ever-blossoming habit of being indecisive appears to be extending to fellow avenues in my very un-Wisteria-Lane-isque life, which is rapidly growing to become as much of a pain as my brother calling first dibs on the TV remote just in time to watch a football match featuring two teams which he doesn't even like for the pure sake (to my red-faced anger) of it.

Everything, it seems, depends on to which it is related: if a genuine phone call was made to my house (very unlikely, as I can somewhat remember seeing fishy numbers flash up on the landline phone every couple of months) which declared that I could move to any country in the world, it wouldn't take a single second (or a heartbeat, which would undoubtedly stop in my sudden state of shock) to go for it because curiosity has always provoked me to wonder about the ways in which a life is led in a different and fascinating country, and one is only able to appreciate fish and chips as the top favourite takeaway so many times until foreign cuisines grab your interest and draw you into an unique style which you instantly wish to explore.

Yet I wouldn't particularly fancy giving my colourless bedroom a lavish makeover at the moment because I'm pretty content with the way it currently looks, though green-eyed envy used to be a culprit of stirring hidden desires to paint the bland-looking walls a vivid magenta (well, that idea was way back in my pink-forever days as a cutely-clad little girl) when I only wished to follow suit with the oh-so-over trends of the day. Why is that, you ask? Sometimes, I can only achieve the top levels of happiness by going on a spending and money-saving splurge (a.k.a pick up a numerous amount of pocket-friendly bargains, whilst purchasing enough to fill up a not-so-cheap wardrobe) on the H&M website and feel right at home in my own skin by keeping certain things, including the position of my office-like desk, the same because familiarity has always struck me as a welcome sight when you get the startling impression of everything else changing - even if it is for the better.

So, is it hardly any wonder that us teenagers feel as though we have been taken through hell and back during our tedious and slightly traumatic years of maturing into calmer and certainly anger-free adults? Along with getting on with daily pressures of keeping on top with our mountain-high loads of homework and making a mental note to take out the rubbish when the foul-smelling bin reaches the same height as a lanky footballer, if only we could rid our angst-fuelled complexions of scream-inducing spots in time for birthdays; a spot wedged between the top of my lip before I even became a teenager has already claimed the prestigious title of being the most celebrated partypooper in all history! Although we can't help but feeling pretty excited about gaining a curvier and more enviable figure when we reach the eventual end of waking up with strands of stringier-than-guitar-chords greasy hair stuck on our faces, several changes - such as losing an beanpole-inspired physique, one of which was a precious weapon whenever we wished to indulge on our favourite and deeply unhealthy foods, in place of a figure which can easily lose its beauty within a single bite of a deep-fried chip - are not always welcomed with open arms and it can be extremely difficult to get to grips with changes which you partly appreciate taking place and detest with the whole of your spot-covered soul.

Therefore, it's almost impossible to not express my heartfelt gratitude at being granted more freedom and independence in relation to particular activities in which I can engage myself; even just strolling around a street, nowadays packed with empty buildings and an astounding army of charity shops caving in on the remaining legion of retailers somehow managing to stay on their financially struggling feet, gives me the opportunity to clear my muddled mind of the daily hassles truly getting under my bumpier-than-a-pot-hole skin, though I must admit that it needn't take a second thought to race up to my bedroom and switch on a battery-drained laptop to write down my feelings in order to gain a sense of clarity and oh-so-sweet peace within my own mental state. At least my love of jotting down my thoughts and experiencing the pleasant joys of achieving a small, yet meaningful ambition of completing a blog entry doesn't cease to have ever changed, and I doubt that it will in the near future - why dedicate a whole day to playing video games when you could immerse yourself in the feel-good vibes surrounding achievement by baking a cake (forget about putting on the pounds because the lemon-flavoured sponge comes first!) or exploring your creative skills through playing an instrument or painting an artistic picture?

Trends, whether they may include neon-bright boob tubes (even a few years on, I still have my doubts about being able to wear one without resorting to the embarrassing method of holding onto to it in the wide-eyed view of the general public) or YouTube-based performers working their way up the charts, constantly change as we adapt our style and interests all the time, most of which we barely bat a black eye-lined lid to because it plays such a normal role in our lives. Of course, I wouldn't dare to say no to differences being made if they are in the best interests for the majority of people - who would object to something good taking place? Still, I'm prone - and probably I won't be singled out as the Chloé-scented weirdo out here if others are prepared to join in - to experiencing sensations of nail-biting nerves when a new and out-of-the-blue change is on the verge of being inflicted on my life, even if it one which I have spent countless days and weeks dreaming of happening. Perhaps part of myself fails to get over the initial shock and hangs onto it for dear life as I find it impossible to loosen my grip in place of something more stable than I could even begin to imagine; don't an extreme amount of problems stem from our instinctive fear of heading into the unknown without an ounce of certainty to offer us any guidance?

Until I reach a stage in my life where I feel brave enough to leap out of the sky like the scared-stiff stars on the yearly series of I'm a Celebrity..., I don't think that I will confront my inner fears about taking a leap of faith into the unknown. I had no idea how difficult it is to live as a hormonal and angsty teenager until I became one, yet I'm doing pretty well for myself (by the way, producing a batch of chocolate chip brownies helps matters from time to time) and I didn't even have a choice about it! OK, New Year was almost two weeks ago and my main resolution was to avoid writing a list of resolutions like wildfire, but I believe that if I did sit down for half an hour before colourful fireworks lit up the starry sky à la 2012, I would've included an earnest ambition to give full flow to bravery guiding me through these hard, yet intensely thrilling years. Considering that 2014 only began eleven days ago, I didn't quite expect to be uttering these words so quickly, but who cares? I guess that I can count this amongst my homework of getting my hands dirty with moisturizing my previously desert-dry feet this sunnier-than-usual weekend - whatever happens during my years of living live to the full (via sticking my head in a festive-sized bags of brazil nuts) as a high heel-teetering teen, I'll never allow myself to forget the values of appreciating and embracing change for the better!