Why, when a modern day teenager like me typically casts herself as the most temperamental creature to have ever walked on this planet, am I as joyous as an ordinary person who has not been belittled by erratic hormones and heat-related breakouts? The answer, like the animated meerkat Aleksandr Orlov's famed phrase, is simples: I couldn't be in a better place. Since packing up all of my cherished possessions into thousands upon thousands of cardboard boxes (there goes my plans for saving the environment; eco queen I no longer am) and travelling over one hundred miles to my new residence towards the end of March, my life has been as crazy as a gut-wrenching (and, if one has eaten, stomach-turning) roller coaster but, for the first time in ages, I feel comfortable in my new surroundings and am willing to take pride in what I now call my new home.
Although getting over the initial 'what am I doing here?' reaction which shortly followed after moving into my home has been exhausting to say the least, there is a sense of belonging - a feeling which, regardless of my age and current desires in life, I continue to cherish like a prized childhood memory - lingering in the air, making me realize that, at long last, I do have a right to be one of the 1500 or so residents in my new countryside village. From taking lengthy strolls in the park to gazing at the many chocolate bars sold at the local newsagents (how tempting it is to munch on a Freddo Frog whilst walking in the warm embrace of afternoon sunshine), I already get the impression that I have lived here for much longer than seven weeks and one day, putting my previous existence in another area where it truly belongs: the past.
If I'd visited my current home this time last year, it wouldn't have taken two seconds before I would've questioned whether I was wandering about in an oh-so-perfect dream, one of which seemed too good to become a reality. From a young age, I've learnt to never take anything for granted which, along with being able to suss out whether one supports a particular football team (courtesy of none other than my little brother), is one of the greatest lessons that I've had the privilege of studying, a precious gift in itself. If I lost my ability to savour and express appreciation for what I classify as the finer things in life - from visiting the cinema to going on shopping sprees, the list is endless - wouldn't a vital part of myself at heart be taken away, too?
For as long as I can remember, gratitude has held a significant presence in my life and, over time, has influenced my personality, instilling good manners of which are no longer passed down as much as previous generations before myself. Though it seems apparent that many teenagers have little or no acquaintance with manners in this modern era, my brother and I have been brought up to say 'please' and 'thank you' whenever in presence of others or, without fail, our own parents. Often, I laugh at my own habits whenever I utter 'thank you' for the least significant thing - or, from time to time, for nothing at all! But I wouldn't change my attitudes or indeed gracious nature because, when I've had enough time to take in what is either surrounding me or taking place, I'm happy for appreciating the moment, particularly if it isn't a regular occurrence.
Cue a pair of sea-blue eyes almost bulging of their sockets when the most important change in my life - moving home for the first time in seven years which, as I'm only fifteen, was almost half a lifetime ago - was announced, sending me into a spin which even the most experienced ballerina couldn't handle. But, as many people have done and will for years to come, I got on with the tasks on hand, ignoring the stress which was bubbling furiously beneath the surface. Only in the past few weeks have I been blessed with the opportunity to close my eyes and address these feelings via my preferred method: writing on my blog. Free, easy and adjustable to my needs and plans for the day ahead, typing as fast as a speedy racecar is soothing, despite the irritating noise which the keyboard produces.
Unlike what life holds itself, I'm not faced with any barriers or prevented from crossing the path which leads to unlocking buried-deep feelings whenever I write, giving me as much of a backstage pass as one could hope to get at an extravagant Lady Gaga concert (that, without a doubt, is an encounter that I would very much savour). And, whether I'm in the mood to unleash my startling array of English idioms or not, reaching the end of a blog entry always guarantees a change in my mood which, unlike a mid-afternoon binge in the biscuit tin, has a long-lasting effect. Take that, sugary Oreos!
In case it had ever occurred to you or a different idea had crossed your mind altogether, I recognized my status as a deep thinker (a.k.a. wannabe philosopher) many moons ago which, exactly like my passion for Sudoku puzzles, I'm extremely proud about. When you think about it, it shouldn't come as a massive surprise that I have somewhat of a penchant for thinking because, after all, I do love writing several times a week - otherwise, why would this blog exist? For many years, I've often complained - um, should I mean thought - about the human mind being incapable of recording past thoughts because, unlike a video camera or pictures, one cannot always recall what they have thought about in their minds, especially if a pen and piece of paper isn't on hand. Who knows whether I've missed out on a once-in-the-lifetime opportunity to sell an award-winning book as I didn't have access to jotting down my ideas - which were still floating in my whirlpool of a mind - when they were at their most vivid stage, but I will never find out because I can't remember any of it!
In general, teenagers have plenty on their minds and of course an endless array of topics to think about as they step away from the shadow of childhood, then begin to grasp the meaning of becoming an adult. Whenever I've read interviews with famous celebrities and a question about their lives is asked, more often than not their years as an adolescent is brought up, establishing the relevance of one's teenage years (or moments spent in the beauty department at Boots) for many decades to come. Stress is a well-known subject which many of us - both young and old - know off heart like a Grease sing-along, but teenagers are not limited with issues which are bound to crop up at one point or another.
At this time in my life, I'm preparing to return to school - yes, that may be the most bizarre sentence that one could read, but it's true - after being home-schooled for seven years, bringing along the prospect of making friends and adjusting to the school system in one rolled-up package. Am I nervous? If it wasn't for my stomach growling like Benny the Hissy Kitty or the clock recently turning midday, I would say otherwise, but it needn't take the likes of a genius to realize that I am a little jittery about going back to mainstream education after so many years. In my eyes, enrolling into a secondary school is literally the final hurdle that I need to face before I feel completely settled in my new home and, needless to say, my new life, but dealing with these bigger-than-ever issues are never entirely easy, are they? But, as is the case for the majority of school-age students in my country, going to school is an ordinary part of every day life and, whether my stomach chooses to play up or not, I have to face up to it. In all honesty, I'm thrilled about going back to school and have already fantasized about what it will be like, but even my excitement can only ward off a certain level of nerves. Having plenty to think about - and putting my inner thinker hard at work - is the understatement of the year. Need I say more?
Teamed with a dollop of gratitude and piles upon piles of subjects to give my mind the ultimate workout, I have been knee-deep in sorting out my feelings since I moved almost two months ago, but it finally seems as though I've discovered the light towards the end of the tunnel. The past seven weeks can easily be dismissed as a short-lived period in limbo, but it has been a time to grasp my surroundings and take life - my fresh start - at my own pace. If I was asked to describe it, the word 'holiday' wouldn't automatically spring to mind, yet it has been refreshing to take life day by day and, like a can of Coca Cola, savour every single moment. Now that I feel ready to end my time in limbo or whatever it deserves to be called, I am more than prepared to embrace what is ahead of me!
As ever, the sun is shining through my bedroom window, tempting me to venture outside. Maybe I will give up my Bella Swan-inspired look and embrace a bit of heat because, as British weather is renowned for, sunny spells are hardly destined to last longer than five minutes. Also, Twilight was one of my favourite films in my old life, so why hold onto an era which has since passed? New habits and attitudes need to be formed - and I'm happier for it.
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