Although distinguishing my wants and needs is hardly a cause for concern unlike a grizzly murder featured in Agatha Christie's crime novels, I never feel entirely satisfied until my mission in learning a little bit more about myself is completed, making me feel as relieved as one does after a hard day at work or school. Since I became a teenager (and the terror of residing with an irritable young adult sent a chill down my family's spines) two years ago, I have researched more and more about unearthing the deepest parts of myself which, despite being left in the dark of what lurks beneath the lipstick-coated surface, I wish to explore because, at the end of the day, all I want is to be at ease in my skin.
As I realize that there are many years ahead of me - hopefully ones not mostly taken up with searching the beauty halls for the latest must-have anti-wrinkle cream, as it seems to be the case nowadays - and being my own best friend is essential to finding happiness, going beyond what one on-looker might see upon glancing at me is an interest of mine which I strongly take to heart. In fact, I've never had a problem with being left to my own devices - and thoughts - for long periods of time which, considering that many people prefer to be surrounded by others on a regular basis, I feel pretty proud about as it proves that accepting and appreciating who you are as a person is as important as immersing yourself in company.
But, by having taken the time to get used to hanging out alone, I have developed somewhat of an instinct which has provided some help in relation to maintaining my values and keeping a cool head for most of the time. In plain English (minus the Oxford-fancy expressions), I don't easily fall prey to peer pressure, which is most commonly present amongst teenagers who, unlike a wise and done-it-all adult, may not necessarily possess the gift of standing their own ground and freeing themselves from one's pressurizing nature. Perhaps if more of us got to know ourselves a bit better, the consequences which might follow giving into peer pressure may vanish like the stigma which may be attached towards having too much time on your hands - otherwise recognized as going skin deep.
And, in traditional LikeATeen fashion, today I intend to delve into the lively and oh-so-vivid world which is my mind. My world still in a dizzying spin, more questions than ever are spilling out of my mouth as I wonder about what the future will hold; but, having dismissed my buried-deep views long ago, do I hold the answer which is the key towards unlocking the happiness I seek? Unlike what I might have always preferred to believe, it may well be the case that I do know it off heart, but chose to ignore it or bury my head in the sand for a day and age. As if I'd willingly choose to dunk my hair into dusty sand; I don't wash my hair for nothing, you know...
Question: Am I short? Like Tinkerbell-short? Ugh, I don't even know if I'm the Little Plum Fairy, but Little Brother (LB) keeps joking about my height, especially since he began to tower over me several months ago. Excuse my irritability, but these 'little' bird had to catch the worm at six this morning...
Answer: Whoa, calm down! Hold your horses, shut your mouth up... um, forget that one, if the green-eyed monster is your name (thought my eyes are actually blue)/
Hmm, this is a tricky dilemma and I should know because it has been crossing mind for ages, but sometimes an answer cannot be conjured out of thin air. From a young age, I was conscious about being above average height (the older ages on the label of my clothes said so) but, instead of feeling uncomfortable about it, I embraced it with heartfelt pride, feeling it within my duty to stand tall - literally - for long-legged girls everywhere.
Then, as my soon-to-be-written autobiography will include, puberty hit like a killer wave, destroying all of which I used to believe and ruining any future possibilities of wearing my favourite black-and-purple dress again. Tout d'un coup, I shot up and was constantly growing, almost reaching the height of a sunflower, my most loathed flower.
But, as the story unfortunately goes, my years of growing came to an abrupt STOP and no new measurements have been recorded since the age of eleven, going on twelve, to my utter dismay. Although many may not automatically classify me as 'short' at the height of 5ft 4in (and a precious quarter), this nonetheless doesn't take away my beliefs that I'm destined to spend the rest of my life going to shops aimed at petite women which, bearing in mind that I used to be tall as a young child, is as crushing as the sudden cancellation of my favourite witch-themed programme, The Secret Circle. As I keep hearing, the world's population is supposed to be getting taller, but I feel like the one true exception from this fact, especially as my fears of no longer growing are almost confirmed.
However, there is a teeny-weeny part of myself which screams with rage about my complaining about a truth which affects plenty of people around in the world; in several countries, such as Vietnam, being 5ft 4in tall would be deemed as supermodel height (the average height for a Vietnamese woman is 4ft 10in which, if my memory is correct, was my height as a nine year old). According to recent statistics, the average sized woman in both the UK and United States is 5ft 4in which, as I obsess about height to a certain extent today, is a small comfort to my ever-lasting agony.
So, here's my answer to my over-the-top question: I, despite nearly having panic attacks over my petite-ish stature in the past, am not the shortest person on Earth and, in some people's eyes, may look like a high-heeled giant. Health and talent is more important than one's looks, as I ought to have realized long ago, and if being a little on the petite side brings me a gift in writing, so be it.
Question: What will I do once my education ends?
Answer: Usually, I love discussing anything related to education because, like the weekly routine of catching up on Revenge with my equally-entertained father, is is of an extremely high importance to me. Not only do I find learning as fun as playing with my two kittens (though the same couldn't be said about studying maths), I appreciate how it can open so many doors when I hopefully begin a successful career some time in the future.
But answering a question about what is likely to happen in years' time to come? Sorry, I barely know what the weather will be like in five minutes, let alone what I'll be doing in five years' or so time. Yet who ever said that I should stop dreaming?
Since I realized my burning ambition to become a journalist at the tender age of eleven, I've working non-stop towards making my dream a reality, most noticeably running this blog as a means of getting a feel for writing articles as a full-time job. Although I've come across several hurdles along the way - a long-term bout of writer's blocks and failed applications to gain work experience at newspapers, to say a few - I have nonetheless leaped over the other side, in the hope of living the future of my dreams.
So, like all wannabe journalists whose minds permanently run at 80mph, I've created my own five year plan which, even if a slight dilemma forces me to come to a full stop, should work to my benefit, providing that I put in the hard work necessary:
- After gaining good grades at both GCSE and A-Level, I intend to finish my education at school and prepare to get my first taste of working life, my head in high spirits over gaining the necessary qualifications which could contribute to getting a good start in my career.
- Preferably, I will contact various newspapers and journalism agencies which may offer an internship, opening a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to immerse myself in the working environment of my dreams. Also, putting my writing past across could work in my favour, especially as skill - and not the grade you may miraculously achieve in an exam - matters most, which is the truest indicator of one's abilities.
- Once an internship comes to an end, I could use it as a reference to get my ideal starter job - working from the bottom, yet able to showcase my writing - either at the same place or elsewhere, which could send me on the path towards writing mania.
One shouldn't really think too far ahead into the future but, as writing means the world to me and is a job which would guarantee a smile on my face, I cannot stress upon its importance. For now, I can only remain hopeful that the future remains as bright as a countryside sky, though my path could change by the time that I'm old enough to take my first steps into the working world. Will I be a journalist? All I can say is that I hope and pray that my dream will come true, but I can't always have the answers, can I?
Question: Do I stand a possible chance of ever fulfilling my lifetime want - purchasing a designer handbag? You needn't look as I wipe away a tear of sadness, green with envy at the sight of the latest Louis Vuitton creation...
Answer: Do you remember anything, my great forgetful self? The other week, my parents gave me the very best advice I could ever have which, as I'm determined to walk into a designer boutique by the time that I'm 25 (perhaps 20 if luck and a major Lottery win is on my side). was music to my ears: marry a rich guy. Even better if he is a member of the Royal Family or has aristocratic roots - one would needn't think twice about forking out on a decent bottle of champagne!
However, if the above fails or I put my size 7 foot in it (though I don't quite know what 'it' is) on my first date, be prepared for several years of money saving, hard work and a few sacrifices along the way. When I mention 'sacrifices', of course I'm referring towards splashing out on a Kitchenaid of my own (preferably sex siren-rouge red) and putting aside my fantasies of being a Domestic Goddess, though at least I'd be one without a peculiar speck of 'flour' or 'sugar' up my nose. Anything which contributes towards satisfying an eleven year old's fantasy matters enormously and, throughout years of hardship, it will be worth it - but now I have to decide which bag I'll buy!
Question: Who am I? Obviously, I know my name [the real one of which cannot be disclosed] and what my birth certificate, but I'm referring to what is beneath the layers of my blemished skin.
Answer: As always, my spot-loathing self can never quite resist an opportunity to bring up the frightful topic of acne, though this time it needn't be said that I'll be searching beyond what one may see upon reflection, truly going skin deep (and perhaps the source of my puberty-related hassles).
So, as the question asks, who am I? To many, the answer would simply be that I'm a fifteen year old girl living in the countryside, with a newfound fondness for walks in the sunny outdoors and a talent in writing to her heart's content. But, if you dig deeper, more information - all of which is related to who I am - will spill out, bringing a whole new sense to myself and enlightening you with a fresh insight into the person who writes this blog.
Behind every smile, I aim to please and spread joy to those surrounding me as being caught in a saddening atmosphere makes my heart plummet beyond the deepest ground, wishing to maintain a relaxed attitude at all times. However hard I may try to hide it, I cannot completely disguise my guilt whenever I give into my 'erratic' tendencies and lose my temper because, as always, I recognize how my behaviour might affect others who, if they didn't know me so well, could develop a bad impression of myself, a disaster which I'm constantly eager to avoid. Although getting on with what I want to do - mostly for my own benefit - is my greatest source of pleasure, it is almost impossible to ignore a desire to help others who are in need of it because their needs, as it soon occurs me, are usually nine times out of ten of a higher importance to mine, bringing home the meaning of putting others before yourself.
Apart from that, I am so many things - a daydreamer who performs her imaginative activities as a part-time job and a secret TV lover, to say the least - that I wouldn't have enough space to mention everything, unless you have plenty of spare time (and energy-boosting drinks) on hand. But this question has provoked me to accept that there may probably never be enough words to offer a complete and full-on description about my personality because, as many of you might have realized long ago, none of us are definable. And, for the sake of my aching hand, I'm proud of that as I aspire to stand out as my very own person, renewing the inspirational image of embracing individuality.
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