Lift Off

               The first few sentences of piece of writing are the most important for they are what paint your first impressions. Hence, the sentences within this paragraph will probably be more important than the phrases you will encounter in the next. This means I will not have to worry too much about keeping you interested in the forthcoming paragraphs. They may be as tedious as:            

    I was born in a hospital located somewhere in the North America – on the Friday of a July. I don’t remember this, of course. I’m sure you have as much trouble as I do trying to remember events that occurred when you were very, very young. In fact, the earliest thing I remember is walking around a living room in a small single-story house, in an island not worth mentioning simply because it is unheard of. I may have been four years old, and oblivious – oblivious enough to see the world as a beautiful place.

              

  At the age of four, my life was simple or so it seemed. I attended a decent school not too far from my house. I had more than enough friends, and I assumed I’d spend the next thirteen years of my life happily with them.

     The school was massive – and consisted of a few separate buildings and a wide field. I remember the field being as green as it could be. During recess, it was always filled with the shouts, cries, and laughter of children running, skipping, playing around in their light blue tops, and dark blue bottoms.

           

     I was one of these children. I used to run all over that field and yells things along the lines of “tag, you’re it” and “catch!”  My head used to be as light and empty as a balloon. The words “stress” was not to be found in my dictionary. Neither was the word “pressure”. However, today, this balloon has inflated to a point where even a little more air may cause it to burst.                 

   One may argue that the last couple of sentences in a piece of writing are just as crucial as the first. For this matter, I must write the following with great care: I understand that it has not been easy for you to have read this far, as this may be one of the least exciting series of paragraphs I have ever put together. I also understand that you may wish you could somehow “unread” it. Or perhaps you thought it was going to be interesting while reading the first paragraph and wish to return to that impression, just as much as I wish to return to my first impression on the world. I want to run in a field and yell at the top of my lungs. I wish to be young and oblivious again. Oblivious enough to think it possible to travel back in time. 

Prepare for Launch

1. When we were five years old, we were naïve 

enough to believe that our most surreal fantasies would come true. You might have dreamt of living in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory, becoming the hero of a Disney animation, or even singing on stage with your favourite pop-star.  Me, I dreamt of becoming an astronaut. 

1. It was the only cloud that hovered over my head when I was asleep. If someone has asked me why I wanted to become an astronaut, I would have probably said something similar to:

"Just imagine... rising up off the ground in a spaceship and watching Earth shape into a sphere getting smaller and smaller until it was merely a dot on a pitch black background... I could travel from planet to planet, galaxy to galaxy, see new sites and meet aliens... and just think. I'd be an isolated man drifting in space..."

1. I’m sure I shared this dream with a planet full of other children, and I’m certain I wasn’t the only person who lost grasp of this cloud as time went on and I grew old enough to understand how implausible the images in that cloud were. In other words, I began to think I will most likely never become an astronaut.

1. However, today, I realized that I am an astronaut. Or at least, I feel like one. Since I was born, I’ve been rising – growing taller – while the world around me seemed to shrink smaller and smaller. I’ve been travelling my whole life – from city to city, country to country, seeing extraordinary things, and meeting new faces.  I’m a lonely boy drifting on Earth.

            The “naïve” five-year-old boy’s dream has somewhat come true. With this in mind, I will gladly narrate, in my next posts, how my journey began – the journey of an astronaut. Until then, we will wait, and listen to the countdown. Three… Two… One…       

Sorry, there is nothing to see here.

"First" is a big and important word even though it only consists of four consonants, and one vowel - five letters.

Take the word "steps". What do you see? At the sight of the word you might imagine yourself walking up a staircase. A dictionary may define it as “an act or movement of putting one leg in front of the other”, and a thesaurus may give you synonyms such as “march” or “stride”.

Now, take the word “first” and place it in front of the word “steps”. You’ll get something that looks a little like “first steps”, and you’ll find that your mind is already picturing a baby in a diaper struggling to keep balance and put one foot in front of the other. Sadly, I don’t remember my first steps as I was just a year old at the time, and I’ll assume you don’t either. However, I will remember the first steps of this blog. I will, later in life, remember myself sitting on this sturdy old metal chair typing up these exact letters, quotations, commas, hyphens, periods, and question marks. I will remember myself leaving a line and indent before the start of each paragraph. I will remember myself trying to convince the reader how big and important the word “first” really is.

And so, as this blog struggles to put one leg in front of the other, I, being the writer, will decide to conclude this post by stating that these four paragraphs are the big and important first steps of something that will someday grow to tell people stories that were never meant to be told. These four paragraphs are the big and important first steps of a blog that will someday grow to tell people stories that were never meant to be told.