Modern Teen Guide to Maintaining Your Sanity, Loving Life and Being Happy

Prior to commencing my regular task of producing a new blog entry, my chances of kickstarting a steady-eyed attitude towards keeping myself motivation dramatically increase like one's tax bill if I conjure a title for whatever subject I choose to discuss, putting my intentions (and reasons for which I cry in frustration) into focus. Of course, one isn't always in a position to determine the nature of what they will write, allowing their super-speedy fingertips and imaginations as wild as a herd of Mustang horses literally do the talking for them, yet my writing plans somewhat seem more official once I've picked a title, among the many blogging habits which would faze even the most open-minded of all people.

However, today's title - called Modern Teen (for I am of course an angst-riddled adolescent who often dreams of living in decades long before 2014) Guide to Maintaining Your Sanity, Loving Life and Being Happy - truly takes the biscuit as one of the most ridiculous and over-clichéd names that I, a person whom attempts to lead a blush-free existence (obviously excluding my orange juice-spilling incidents as a former Tropicana drinker), have ever created during my seven months or so as a part pretzel muncher, part-time blogger. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with teenage life or, to every acne sufferer's envy, have forgotten what it feels like to be fifteen and at odds against the oh-so-cruel world, it only takes a matter of time until you put two and two together before realizing what is so downright wrong about this entry's title. And, for math whizzes, the answer is not four!

Even a quick glimpse into my previous entries - which, despite being written several months ago, now look as though they were written by a different person with a significantly less insight into society and life itself - suggest that teenage life isn't as rosy as an unassuming adult (translation: unmistakable fool) might be led or chooses to believe, in the vain, yet pointless hope that their darling angels will never grow up to be the foul-mouthed adolescents featured in straight-to-DVD films. From getting down in the dumps over my 'ghastly' appearance - forget a potential apocalypse destroying life as we know it, running out of my life-saving foundation brings the world to a landstill - to being forced to adjust to a major change, it is fair to say that life hasn't necessarily been a piece of cake though, as I now wish to express, I've almost made it out to the other side. By the 'other side', I'm referring to more pleasurable moments dedicated to the peace that The Beatles spent the 60s' singing about, leaping onto my not-so-springy bed without a care in the world and, most importantly to me, feeling as comfortable and happy as a teenager in my slightly blemished, yet glowing skin.

Life throws enough obstacles which threaten to stand in your way of fulfilling an achievement that is vital to maintain a sense of ambiance within ourselves - happiness - but, unlike our precious years as a care-free child, it becomes all the more important to grab onto whatever lifts a smile (or, for those who have perfected the Kristen Stewart-isque grimace after years of holding Twilight marathons, a shadow of a grin is just as fine) on your face when not only your body, but yourself as a person is undergoing its most significant change that you will ever experience.

Cue many sudden outbursts of anger as hot as the piercing sun (or, if you have a penchant for needles and developing a St Tropez-perfect tan, perhaps both count), doors slamming off their hinges and tears that fall down your face for no specific reason. 'Crazy' doesn't even give a proper glimpse into how not only your racing hormones, but yourself at heart must feel, and the idea of catching your personally sized chunk of joy is a distant, unlikely dream. But would I, a self-titled agony aunt (which, in years to come, will be listed on my CV), allow an opportunity to spread the message about settling into the skin of a teenager - and, once the bottles of Clearasil have made their way to the local recycling centre, are no longer meddled by yellow-headed spots - and embracing life in its most exciting form?

Here, I want to let you in a little-known fact about teenagers and happiness which, if the art of philosophy has not yet taken your world by storm, will soon become a few words which you will forever cling onto: there is no big secret surrounding the puzzling mystery of becoming happy, especially if adolescence is calling your name. Happiness, whether big or small, exists somewhere within all of us and, indeed whenever that joy is sacrificed if a tragedy or a moment of deep sadness has occurred, it seems to run away from your clutches. Believe me, I recognize the familiarity of this feeling - an emotion of which deprives you of desires to smile, look at the big picture or imagine yourself beyond a five minute period - as I was first acquainted with it when my previous two cats passed away last year which, when I reached my lowest ebb, was a great discomfort. Hope also gave the impression of disappearing to a place very far away from me which, unsurprisingly, affected my mood and merely added to grief as heavy as the happiness I used to carry whenever surrounded by my former furry friends.

Yet, only a year since the first of my two kitties, Tom, passed away and seven months since his brother, Jerry, joined him in Kitty Heaven, have I been able to distinguish the noticeable differences between happiness and hope. While happiness is sourced from the surroundings or things which bring us pleasure, hope runs on the leftover fuel from happiness, borrowing it as of when it is necessary. Though many may argue that hope can still persist if happiness is not exactly a full-on presence, happiness is what protects us from the bad feelings - sadness - which we try our utmost to steer clear of. And, if hope keeps our spirit - however small it is - alive, does it mean that the positive vibes which happiness brings us still exist? In other words, I'm suggesting that happiness and hope - albeit two major differences - are somehow linked in a small, yet significant way. Otherwise, without a speck of happiness present in one's life, how can we expect to conjure a measure of hope at the moments when we need it most?

Although it took a long time until I worked my way through the stages of grief, there came the day when happiness and hope, united when grief first took hold of my senses, were unlocked and restored from a place which, in hindsight, couldn't have been nearer to me: myself. Baffling as it may sound, the happy emotions that were the source of my easy-going nature had gone into a sort of meltdown at the first sign of raw and painful grief appearing, fading away into the background until the coast - and my then-lack of emotional tears - was clear. As humans, we cannot be expected to get our hands upon everything we want and need which, makes sense unlike half of what I've just declared, also extends to our emotions. As the only way that I would understand my feelings and, within time, move on was to allow grief to settle for a temporary stay, happiness and hope had to take a back seat until I was able to cope with anything stronger than the sadness that was left after my furry friends' deaths.

On the off-chance that, several paragraphs after I began my expert analysis into the human mind and emotions, you still don't comprehend my views, the facts, as always, are simple: happiness, regardless of how hard it seems to obtain it during the craziest time of your life - adolescence - exists within ourselves and, even when other matters are having their time in the spotlight, happiness has not indeed run away nor left you for good. Most importantly of all, happiness is a right for which we deserve and, as these tips show, I want to discover it, too. After all, aren't teenagers renowned for their love of a good time?

• Have a break: Though the expression automatically brings the wafer chocolate bars KitKat - who knows how I resisted saying have a break, have a KitKat at the top of my lungs - to mind, having time out from whatever you're doing from time to time doesn't harm you in the slightest, nor diminish your chances of achieving an A in French (yet another of my life-long ambitions). Not only do plenty of studies promote the benefits of kicking up your feet and getting some study-free air for a while, but your parents would probably recommend it, too - how else will your family survive if you don't get away from revision every once in a blue moon? Breaks won't destroy motivation for whatever tasks you're completing (decorating a house on The Sims included) and, when you return to your work, it will amaze you how much better you feel, more than likely to be an advantage in your favour. Really. 
• Go on a break: A theme for breaks may seem to be forming here, but this type of 'break' isn't necessarily associated with the one above, for more distinguishable reasons. By going on a break, unfortunately I'm not referring to jumping onto a plane and travelling to the other side of the world, but of course I mean the most special place of all: your bedroom. The trends might not change as much as the shops in fashion-crazy Paris or the size doesn't increase like the newly-built Wembley Arena, but it is a safe haven away from the hassles of every day life. Your bedroom ought to represent peace, stability and half an hour free from any harassing siblings; it's where you can be yourself! And, with all of this free time, why not take a few moments to think really deep about your ambitions, thoughts and feelings? Declaring your emotional issues to the rest of the world is pointless if you don't make an effort to work through it yourself - via thinking about it - and, unlike a costly trip to a foreign country or even at a caravan park in the countryside, sorting out your woes yourself will save you plenty of money (and premature wrinkles) in the long run. 
• Don't worry: Several years since this thought popped into my head, I will admit to straying away from my original intentions from time to time, but who wouldn't be able to escape from the clutches of deep-rooted worry when a major life-changing moment is occurring? But, as I've heard several times, worrying is of no benefit to yourself which, when you couldn't imagine certain circumstances getting worse, brings on more problems if such a practice is continued. Not only does worrying increase your chances of developing premature frown lines (ah, the horror!) and worsen your outlook on life, it can also affect your studying, habits and, if it reaches such a state, even your health. Suddenly that occasional sulk doesn't sound so great, does it? Most of the time, we worry about things which, if we put our minds to something more beneficial to our lives or found a decent programme on TV, are absolutely pointless, but we should always remain aware of when we are crossing the line. Getting tingles like Spider-Man's spidey senses before a major exam is normal and, in small doses, could be used as an advantage if transformed into motivation to succeed, but squeezing your eyes shut and wishing that the littered ground would swallow you up? That isn't acceptable at all. Like above, work through various issues - both jumbo- and pint-sized - by thinking about it then coming up with a plan to manage your worrying woes, with the help of family and friends if needs be. Worrying can send us into a spin which even the most agile cannot control - don't lose your grip on reality, OK?