“I am simply a wandering star, lost in the winding streets of this Living puzzle. Sparkles and swirls whirl around my steps, find them if you might, through the empty shroud of reality. They leave a path to mark my trail but only those of Will and Word shall be of no vain.”

Yes, my imagination went places.

Firsts are horrible yet satisfying. It’s a love-hate relationship, you want to get there but you hate to have to go through all that anxiety.  It never fails for me to wish that the moment will just pass and it’ll be over and done with without having to actually be present —
*press fast-forward and zoom*

* eyes tightly closed*

*fingers crossed*
*I open my eyes*

BOOM

Careen back to reality. One which, I might add is devoid of the swirls, sparkles, and fanfare of magic – bitter much? Fine, maybe I was just hoping for a time machine or that Time Turner that Hermione Granger had once. But seriously, I did do that whole wishwishwish thing, quite similar to Dorothy Gale, maybe it would have worked if I was wearing Ruby Red Slippers?

Maybe not.

I guess it’s just time to wake up from all that wishing and hoping coz no matter how many times I squeeze my eyes shut and cross my fingers ‘til I break them, nothing’s ever going to happen until I get up and make it happen, right? Right? Looking for an affirmation here ya know!

Nothing?

Seriously?

Fine.

But in truth, getting through Firsts can be completely gratifying. Your heartbeat stops speeding, a sense of relief washes over you and then you get in some sort of high – the kind that leaves you giggling at yourself that you look crazy – well in my case that applies. And then you realize, it’s done. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? And you’d berate yourself and laugh and continue on with whatever important thing it was you were doing…until another First comes along….and so the cycle begins again.

Yet the experience of every First is akin to exhilaration. Mind you, I’m not referring to the actual emotion or feeling of the situation but the experience of the First itself. The wonder, the rapture, the novelty of it; something new, something daring, something so exquisite. Firsts should be captured into little glass jars, like fairies are, just for their worth. Simply because they are what they are; they can never be experienced again and the Second can never be compared to the elation that the First brought. Maybe that’s why cameras were invented, to attempt to photograph the First, put a face to the name, so to speak.

That’s why, no matter how much I dread First occurrences, I still go through them. Well, I really have no choice, it’s either that or hide under a rock for the rest of my life. But I guess the way you go and meet the First makes all the difference. In truth, I’ll still be that frantic, hair tugging, mess of me but I’d be more prepared, more focused, and maybe just a little bit more reckless. Coz well, no one likes a stiff prude,  do they?

So folks, that’s exactly how I got to be here sitting on my bed at close to 2 in the morning finishing this up. It’s been three days of discarded topics and trashed entries, countless years since I told myself I’d get my writing up and practiced, and numerous deleted blog sites and empty journals.

I’d probably never think that this good enough or anywhere near perfect.

I’d probably continue to pull my hair wondering what people would think of it or better yet, if anyone will actually be reading it at all.

But you know what, who cares?

I shouldn’t. Really.

So here it is…

…. my First.

*giggle*

10Mar10