Why I Am Not Your Average Teenager: By Maddy Stimpson UK

Or subtitled:

How Teens Are Distinctly Better Than Average In The flurry of England

I could go on for paragraph upon paragraph about how I'm not your average teenager, and I will, because that's the point of this post.

I reside in a small English town, on the outskirts of London, where young and old get along harmoniously and I've recently begun to realise that I like it, Everything is within easy reach, which is good as laziness is a teenagers downfall, or just me, we'll never know, and each night I hear an ice cream van in the surrounding roads, but never yet have I found it's dwelling.

Being a teenager in England requires careful planning, we are each categorized amongst our peers and never yet has the social hierarchy been so important- If you wear a Hoodie and your hood is up on a London road you will more than likely be stopped and searched- The very reason I steer clear of the things, that and my head is too big.

I am not your average teenager because; Each morning I set my alarm for five am, I like to lie awake for the residing two hours and go through everything that is muddling my mind, thus not distracting me during lessons such as French- because we all know that's nap time, how many teenagers D'you know who do that?!

I am not your average teenager because; I hold hands with my Mutti (mother dearest) when we shop.

I am not your average teenager because; I live in England- and unless your a fellow English(wo)man, most of the teenagers you know live in your country, thus making me distinctly un-average.

Why I'm tremendously fantastical?

I don't own a single pair of low slung jeans...come to think of it I actually don't own a single pair of trousers, not a one. My legs don't like them- or they don't like my legs.

I will rationalise everything in my mind for a very long time before making a decision, thus slowing down my day, but meaning I have few regrets.

In Sweet England I crave the literature like a cup does a teabag and I've a whole attic of books, any kind- the longer the better, I can read faster that I can breathe, and crave nothing more than to be a published...something.

We teens over in England have to be careful to stay on the straight and narrow, with the prices of alcohol so low I could Illegally purchase some with my loose change, and tobacco everywhere you look in My sweet England, the frivolity of sitting in a park can soon become a temptation, thus I frequent the shops more often than the sun.

But who's counting, because I bet all of you know a whole load of lovely teenagers, and I don't think there is such a thing as an 'average teenager', because in sweet England we teens are considered to be obnoxious young things- who scare the elderly, such is not the case, I know a bajillion lovely teens, none of whom frequent street corners late at night. Therefore I like to think I'm distinctly un-average, because in sweet England, there is nothing to the phrase 'Average teen' because we are all unequivocally phenomenal, and one day will grow up to be the new...everything's.

Footnote

- How do we feel about Marmite? who joined the love party?

- Purple skittles are the best- have one on me, no take two.

c jane note: to read a touching post Maddy wrote about her sister's recovery from a fatal car crash read here. No, Maddy is not your average teenager in all the world.

c jane news flash:

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Email Jim at dearcjane@gmail.com for rates!

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Do we love our APX Alarm? Let Chup tell you + more teenager week:

I am c jane and I wish I could hop across the pond and meet Maddy.

I am also speaking, as you can see here:

contact me:
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Why I Am Not Your Average Teenager: By Scott Houghton

So prom is coming up. What do you do?

You make blanket forts and eat dinner on the roof of the school.

You’re standing in the Louisville Kentucky International Airport. What do you do?

You do a handstand amidst the busy travelers.

You’re on a date and you ran out of things to do. What do you do?

You stalk Donny Osmond.

Hello my name is Scott Houghton; I’m a 17 year old living in Provo Utah. Oh wait, before you spend your next 5 minutes reading this post, I have to warn you about something. I’m not your average teenager. Seriously!!! So if you were hoping to read a boring post about some boring average teenager who spends the majority of their day playing video games and watching T.V., stop reading immediately!!!! This is not one of those posts.

So I’ll start again from the beginning. Hello I’m Scott Houghton; I a 17 year old living in Provo Utah and I am not your average teenager. Why am I not your average teenager? Well being average just isn’t my style. It’s so boring to be average. I like being different, I like excitement, and yes I would like to be legendary someday.

How am I going to become a legend? Well for starters I want to be a legend at Provo High School. Not like the legendary amazing student who gets straight A’s and gets 100% on every test ever. Because believe me, I am not that kind of person. I’m talking about becoming a dating legend. I want people/teachers at Provo High School to talk about all the sweet awesome dates I went on and stuff like that. For example, this year for prom we had a really fun “day date”. It was all little kid themed. We first picked up all our dates and went to my house and built a really awesome blanket fort in my living room.

After, we watched “Finding Nemo” and ate/traded our sack lunches. After the blanket fort we went to Discovery Park in Pleasant Grove (a.k.a. the wood park) and played tag, kickball, and other little kid games. It was really fun.

We then dropped off our dates so they could get ready for the dance and for dinner. Dinner was the most legendary thing that we did. We went to the roof of the school set up a table and ate dinner on the roof of the school. It was really, really cool.

See what I mean by legendary? As far as I know I’m well on my way. Some of the other really fun/creative dates I’ve been on are: drive-in movies (we made cars out of cardboard boxes and watched movies in the living room), snow golfing (pretty self explanatory we snuck onto a golf course in the middle of winter and played golf in the snow), Macey’s games (we went to Macey’s food store in Provo and played all kinds of games), Provo tour of the roofs (we went all over Provo and took a tour of the roof tops), stalk Donny Osmond (we found his house, knocked on his door, and got him to sing happy birthday to my mom for a video we made for her) see video HERE, rock climbing, hiking, bike rides, etc. Becoming a “dating legend” at Provo High School is one of my goals not just for the fame, but because going on amazingly awesome dates is just plain fun.

Thanks for reading about me the crazy-dating legend known as Scott Houghton. Have a good week. Go celebrate teenager week by toilet papering someone’s house, making a bomb, lighting something on fire, and anything else that us crazy teenagers love to do.

Teenage Week continues here:

and here:

I am c jane and sometimes I wish I could go to the prom again.

I am also speaking, as you can see here:

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Why I Am Not Your Average Teenager: By Anne Leishman (17yrs)

I open my eyes as sunlight streaks through my bedroom blinds. I am 4 years old and it’s a Saturday morning in May. I hear the birds tweet as they stretch their wings getting ready for the day’s flight. I wonder what this day holds in store. I smell scrambled eggs sizzling on the stove, but I get strawberries and cream for breakfast instead. My curly blonde hair is all tangled up, and I am dreading brushing it today. I run on errands with my dad and then we work in the yard. My hands tingle in the wet dirt. I get distracted as I find wiggly worms and smell the pink tulips. I watch my mom as she makes dinner. I hope its spaghetti. I play pirates with Joe and live in pure bliss. Later, my daddy rocks me to sleep under the twinkling stars while singing my favorite lullabies. My simple four year old life is perfect as I see the world in technicolor.

I open my eyes as my alarm buzzes. I am 17 years old and it is a school morning in May. My school year is just wrapping up. The intensity and stress of test review and exams is finally over and now I can focus on enjoying the end of my junior year. I roll right onto my knees and thank my Heavenly Father for all he has blessed me with. Then I proceed to shower, eat breakfast, attempt to wake up a very groggy Joe, and put on makeup. I head to school knowing that today is going to be a wonderful day. I listen during class, but I doze off during French. I talk to friends and I am grateful they accept me for being me. I dream of my future and everything that’s in store me. I see the drama of high school life and I wish everyone could just get along. Then, the best part of the day, going home. I walk in my room and see that my mom folded my laundry for me (she’s the best). I help prepare dinner and do what’s left of my homework. I can’t wait for Dad to come home so that we can talk (he’s wonderful too). Hopefully, after my long day I can finally get my beauty sleep. My life as a 17 year old is definitely more complicated than in the past, but I love it for what it is and I still the world in technicolor.

Although the spontaneity of my childhood is gone, those 13 years of growing up sure taught me a lot about life and not accepting being average. I remember that being 4 meant being everyone’s best friend and living life to have fun. I remember finding joy in the smallest things that worms and lullabies. I remember that I loved myself. I am not your average teenager because I live life with the values of a child. I love knowing people and being friends with everyone. I try to change my focus as I look for the small things and most importantly I have come to accept myself because I am strong. I love strawberries. I am willing to learn. I am creative. I love my family. I like playing the piano and I love pearls and lace. I am short and blonde. I am a daughter of God. I am me.

New teenager post on dear c jane by my niece Lindsay!

I am c jane and I am impressed with teenagers like Anne.
I am also speaking this weekend:

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Why I Am Not Your Average Teenager: By Alex Clark

I am often honored and impressed with the teenagers who email or write comments on my blogs. They are often thought-provoking, interesting and quite clever. Because of them, I decided to dedicate this week on c jane, dear c jane and c jane's Guide to Provo for their wit and thought. Besides, we are all eighteen inside anyway.

It all starts off with my nephew, the natural satirist, Alex who turned eighteen in February and who will be a freshman at BYU next year:

When Cjane asked me to blog about how I was different from the average teenager, many reasons popped into my head. Not to say that I think I’m better than everyone else, but I definitely wouldn’t call me just an average person. You can take a look at some of my accomplishments from this list, and then you’ll understand. (And I only made two of them up.)

• I performed a moving rendition of Funny Feet in my Kindergarten assembly
• In third grade I won this one reflections contest
• I ran a three minute mile once
• In the Clark family we have this thing called the “Human Spirit Award” which some deserving person is awarded each July. The HSA score currently looks like this: Me: 1, Jesse: 0. Oh, and I was 12 when I won it (but who’s really keeping track?)
• One time I listened to the “we are the world” song without shoving pins in my ears (I’m still not convinced it isn’t an SNL digital short)
• I might be the first person in the history of this blog to jinx the Lakers and cause them to lose to the Suns (it’s definitely worth a try)
• I’ve never drank soda in my life. Ever.

Some of you may also know me as the nephew that (regrettably) would leave comments about Subway’s “5 dollar footlong” and 2% milk. I say regrettably because once comments were temporarily deleted, I had to sign up for the BlogFrog to keep commenting. To this day I am still haunted by the BlogFrog, which relentlessly sends me emails suggesting I blog about motherhood or flowers. I think it’s safe to say that I’m the only male teen on earth who receives emails from the BlogFrog. GO AWAY BLOGFROG!! NO, I DON’T WANT TO ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN FREE HOUSECLEANING FOR A MONTH! (Hopefully they’ll see this.)

Another thing that separates me from the rest of the pack is that I always try my best, but never let worldly or unimportant goals get in my way. Here is an actual excerpt from my chemistry journal, which is a response to the question: “What is one thing that you want to be remembered for? Why?”

“I want to be remembered for being a good student and for always trying my hardest. And for my awesome abs. Every day before I got to bed I do 200 push-ups with my perfect push-up, then I do 300 sit ups and ab crunches. So I hope you are noticing.”

But when I really think about it, I don’t know what makes me different from an average teenager, because I don’t believe there is such a thing as an “average teenager.” We all have our strengths and we each bring different things to the table. For me, one strength that I have is the ability to write. I especially enjoy the field of sports writing, and one day I hope to be a sports writer. But I still have a long way to go, and a lot more to learn.

Like how to write good endings.

On My Other Blogs Today:

dear c jane:
Nephew Clark Checketts tells you about the ski boots you must have.

c jane's Guide to Provo:
Clark Checketts tells you about a Provo spot you must try.

I am c jane and I taught Alex everything he knows . . . and doesn't know.
I am also speaking this weekend:

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Two Dude

It is late.

We're passing around the flu at our house like a hot potato.

Chup broke his toe.

Ever will only sleep next to my beating heart.

But I want to pay homage to the little entity who made me a mother two years ago.

Happy Birthday Boy!

Tonight you found a metal thermos at Umi's house and it immediately became a spaceship blasting off into orbit. Your ability to make sound effects is pretty advanced for a boy your age. Even Daddy (he, King of the Sound Effect) gives you great kudos. Maybe your obsession with rockets and spaceships will propel you to be an astronaut one day.

(I couldn't handle not having you in this atmosphere though, I'd miss you terribly.)

If two years went this fast, how will time speed by for the next two years? And the next two after that?

(I am afraid to find out.)

5-4-3-2-1 Blast Off!








I am c jane and I love that little boy.
I am also speaking this weekend:

contact me:
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Qualifying Events

Sometimes we use the term "qualify for blessings" in our church. I think it means that when things are rocky, rough, hard, discouraging and soul-destroying we have two choices, to lose the faith or to keep it. If the faith is kept, blessings are sure to follow.

Last night after we put five of the children to bed, I sat on the couch watching taped TV with Ever snuggled on my chest. Chup went to get us drinks so we could toast ourselves for a successful day of parenting. Sorta successful, there was this one moment when . . . nevermind.

I took a few relaxing sips of my vanilla-lemon medley when suddenly I went cold. From the top of my head to my toes--chills and cold sweating. At that point I was swift to remember this horrible case of flu that has been visiting my family lately. Violent vomiting followed by days of fever and aches.

I thought perhaps our taking in a few extra children would be sorta like the passover lamb. Surely our house wouldn't be plagued, we had made our sacrifice, hadn't we?

But it came in the night like the shadow of death. The horrific loss of bodily fluids, the shakes, the unshakable nausea.I suffered through it alone--with an occasional help from Chup--while everyone slept (even that Ever, like a cozy avocado pit). But really, it is a wonder I am alive to write about it now.

I got so dehydrated I was hallucinating. I dreamed I was on the mountain behind my house. I found a spring run-off going down the face of the mountain. I jumped in the freezing water which turned me into an orange, shiny, human fish. I was taking in cold water throughout my entire scaly body. When every pore was filled with hydration,I swam all the way back to my backyard and climbed into bed.

A mirage, is what that was.

So in the aftermath this morning I am finding everything intact, just swell. Swelling, I mean. Just swelling--my ankles especially for some odd reason. The consolation is that I am pretty sure this is one of those qualifiers. If I can get through it, if Steph can get through it, if our collective children can get through it and (perhaps most of all) if our husbands can get through it with faith and gratitude intact, we're going to start picking from a blessing catalog.

Um, yes I will take two more babies please.



For my sister while she was sleeping, photos of yesterday at the park:

Or maybe a life supply of Cheerios?

I am c jane and I post pictures of me with gigantic sunglasses, because it's mablog.
contact me:
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Astro Projection

There is a room here at Retro House we call the Green Room. Basically it is a ginormous bonus room covered in Astro Turf. I've heard that the original owners built it for social functions like adult soirees and wedding receptions. It doesn't have any heating elements so during the winter it's an ice box. But as soon as the sun starts to sizzle in the spring we open it up again and it becomes a killer play room. It has a wall of sliding glass doors that present a gorgeous view of the mountains and open up to our wide backyard. We spend our summers in this room with an industrial swamp cooler and Popsicles.

I really love this room. Can you tell?

I've had a pressing urge to get it cleaned up and ready for this season, so on Monday Chup and I spent the day cleaning wall-to-wall and organizing all the toys. It was a whole lot of work. (The next day our feet and legs were refusing to function.) That night, after sucking up the last of the spiderwebs, and throwing some decorative pillows on the couch, the room was glowing with ceiling Christmas lights. Chup ate a bowl of cereal and I had a lemonade. We looked over our work and declared it good.

Today--two days later--I've got four extra children living with me again. My sister Stephanie is going through an intensive surgery in Arizona and her children are staying here for a time. Maybe even a couple weeks, who knows. Thank heavens for the earlier promptings to clean out the Green Room--it is where we are going to be hanging out for the next little while. All eight of us.

Wish us luck.

I am c jane and I've done this sort of thing before.
contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Are We Not All Hoarders?

This weekend Chup and I hosted a fundraiser yard sale with items that had been donated by our neighbors. Because I wasn't allowed to actually help (and there were plenty of fine workers to do the labor), I stayed inside with the baby and looked out my front window at all the merchandise being picked over by buyers.

When the sale was over--after a couple hours--it was declared that everything not purchased was free. Free for the taking! Just take it! Get us rid of it!

And you know what happens when you signal the free sign? People come out of the woodwork! As the left-over items were being bagged up and sent off to their fate (welcome to The Dump!) a whole new crowd showed up to rummage through the bags and sniff out the outdated hard back books and crusty pastel capris. As Chup was loading bags in our car to donate to a second-hand store, customers started digging through our trunk.

This spawned a conversation with my neighbors about hoarding. Here we were watching strangers collecting armfuls of somebody's craft projects and holiday items put together with glue guns and red fuzzies and suddenly realized there is a culture of hoarding we never knew existed. Intense yard sale hoarding.

It would've been easy to sit there and judge these people. And I did for about fifteen minutes until I realized, I hoard too.

Not stuff. I throw things away while they are still hot. This may even be my weakness. The day of the yard sale I was scouring my house looking for items to throw out on the front lawn with the other merchandise. Chairs, stools, tables and my old maternity wardrobe were all sent out with a good riddance!

But I stash other things like hurt feelings and insecurities. I have a stockpile of negative comments people have given me throughout my life. Bits of unforgiving and faithlessness crafted together by sloppy selfishness are in corners around my soul. I hoard fear, and it comes as a set with stress and anxiety.

In thinking about this all weekend, I've decided to have a personal yard sale. To clean out my spirit and get rid of the stuff I don't need anymore. Here is what I'd pitch to potential buyers:

Do you need a friend who never calls you or answers your emails? Get it while its hot!

I know you want to buy a second-hand always having to be right-ness. It's a hand me down from my dad!

My social anxiety is half off!

In the market for a bad habit? I've got lip-licking, teasing too much and bossiness. Come on down!

Phobia of elevators? Make me an offer!

Hurry people, everything must go!

On My Other Blogs Today:

dear c jane:
Are you Sarah?




c jane's Guide to Provo:
Smell the Despain Trail



I am c jane and I love hoarders.
contact me:
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What the World Needs

Less baby blues and more Ellen Switzer postpartum dresses.

(This one is called Monday and it is simply fabulous--fits like a dream.)

On My Other Blogs Today:

dear c jane:
what you wanted to do was win some of my favorite stuff, right?





c jane's Guide to Provo:
All the cool cats are joining . . .

I am c jane and I hired Ellen to make me some dresses to fit my postpartum body.
contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Post Partner

The Chief has had a rough transition, bless his heart.

He loves his sister Ever, loves holding her and laughing at her little newborn scrunchy face. But he could certainly do without the part where I have to sit on the couch and feed her making me entirely immobile for periods of time. That part makes him all sorts of grumpy, yes sir. He's started to run into the arms of "Woody-Buzz" who generously take him into their world of talking toys and mean kids named Sid.

("You mean that happy child?" "That ain't no happy child.")

It is getting better however and every day we start to see him come out of the fog of it all. I guess I am too, coming out of the fog, and I keep telling myself to go easy about it. My previous standards of motherhood and housekeeping are changing to fit this lifestyle. Though sometimes when I am feeding Ever I have to try really hard not to make mental lists of every observation:

That painting is too high on the wall.

The table needs to be dusted.

Cut The Chief's toenails.

Cut my toenails.

How many times has The Chief watched Woody-Buzz today?

It doesn't take long before my blood pressure reminds me what is important right now is my present presence. To just be here, in the this game, raising my family and loving my husband. Everything else--the repeated fluffing of the pillows--is just that, fluffing.

So tonight when Ever was sleeping and Chup was downstairs working, The Chief and I went to swing outside on the play set. He is the kind of boy who likes you to push him really high. I kept thinking, he's not even two and yet he has this bravery about his body. He has no fear of climbing, sliding or jumping off/on anything. One day we turned around and he was scaling up a ten foot ladder on to our roof.

As I was pushing him in the swing he was laughing because I'd let him swing back and kick me--and for a moment I remembered my life before all of this transition came knocking. And when swinging got old we kicked balls against the back fence--and when one went over the fence into our neighbor's yard I lowered him over and he retrieved it. And when that got old we heard Ever crying from inside.

I know it's been rough this past month on the boy. There have been times when I wished for a switch that could fast forward this part. But there is no doubt about it, I love his guts.

To infinity, and beyond.

On My Other Blogs Today:

dear c jane:
yellow chairs?



c jane's Guide to Provo:

Invitation to a Provo's premiere yard sale . . .




I am c jane and for the most part I am still in the fog.
contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com