Beginnings are a-dime-a-dozen. That oft-mentioned 'first step'. It is said that they are the hardest part, the hardest part of anything, but I, true to form, disagree. I say that it is making sense of that first step that is the hardest, and so aim to present myself to you in the simplest way possible. Make sense of me, if you can.

My beginning was unremarkable, save for its perfect ordinariness. A humble and delightfully middle-class beginning. No odd mannerism, or strange character quirk, or physical irregularity serves to mark me out from my fellow man. Nothing, in short, to single me out for destruction. And yet, despite all these natural advantages, no work of real consequence has emerged from my few brief years in this world. I have rolled through life lacking purpose and aim, slowly, systematically undermining my belief in my own words and ideas.

Clearly, something needed to be done. Something big. Something to stave away the impending madness that would snuff out my indifferent individuality like a candle in a storm, turning me into a poster-boy for Wasted Youth and a Life Squandered. Or not, you know, but it sounds good.

A Brief Interlude - My Mission Statement: Through these pages I shall seek to explain myself to you, to provoke you and to delight you, if you are the kind of reader who might perhaps be provoked or delighted by my ramblings. I shall seek to let you into my world, and when these words are gone perhaps I will be able to concentrate on what I want to actually write. Till then, to free my mind from the thoughts that bounce against its furnishings, they shall be placed here for safe-keeping. If being the caretaker of my dreams and ideas offends you, you are, of course, free to depart. End Interlude.

So, I began to write. Tentatively at first, and then with growing ease and flair. The words keep on flowing from my fingertips and my pen, sometimes utterly pointless, sometimes beautiful, and sometimes so flawed that they keep me up at night. But marred prose can be worked upon, language heals itself, shields itself; and for a while it seemed enough just to be writing. To be involved in creation in its purest form.

Step Two of my undocumented and incompletely implemented Plan meant writing with more focus. I realised that being my only reader would mean never mastering the intricacies of true one-to-many communication, and so I needed an audience. Who better than those who sit, faceless, behind their computer screens, waiting for naivety like mine so that they may crush it? And you too, my friends, if you are here. Life demands hard critics and honest answers, and I hope to find both here.

If you do drop by, oh you jaded, cynical and world-weary ones, may this help bring you back. May my own enthusiasm infuse you, enthuse you, and raise you from your drudgery to what lies beyond it. May my musings amuse you, and may my syntax never make you cringe. In turn, all I ask is that you leave some sign of your passing, be it as evanescent as a ripple on the surface of my pond. Be my guide and my left hand in this, admittedly selfish, quest of mine.