Spend a month at a museum? Yes, please!

A little less than a month ago, I found out about the "Month at the Museum" contest, held by the Chicago Museum of Science & Industry...the grand prize being a month-long stay at the 11-acre museum, documenting the winner's stay, and sharing his/her experiences with the world.

Combine my love for museums, science & technology, & writing...I'm in!

Below is the essay I put the finishing touches on and mailed off, along with the rest of my application package. Here's to keeping fingers crossed - this would be an incredibly amazing opportunity!

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At age eight, I sat in the Mission Control, gazing in wonderment at the consoles and displays tracking the whereabouts of the orbiting shuttle, as the flight control team worked to solve problem after problem during a simulation. I watched in awe as a group of people worked together to help humans live and work in space…the same space that all of my astronomy books talked about, the ones I sat and poured over from an even earlier age.

I left that day, proclaiming to my mother that I would one day work in Mission Control.

Seventeen years later, I half realized that dream, when I sat in Mission Control for the first time and spoke to the crew onboard the International Space Station, whom I had trained. I left that night, my footsteps echoing across the empty parking lot, knowing that I was well on the way towards contributing to a legacy left by the spaceflight pioneers of yesteryear.

As I’ve worked towards fulfilling this dream, I’ve realized the value of all of the formative events throughout my life that have shaped the person I’ve become today, and moreover, continually prepare me to accomplish my goals. As a child, I sat, nose in science books on a regular basis. I designed my own experiments, to apply all of the concepts I read about in those very books and at school. I pursued an engineering degree in college that equipped me with the understanding of and ability to apply principles essential to spaceflight operations. Each day I spend as an astronaut instructor, I gain insight and appreciation for the training that crewmembers undergo to prepare for spaceflight.

Earlier this year, I was given the opportunity to give a talk to the participants of one of NASA public engagement efforts - the STS-132 Tweetup. Though apprehensive at first at the thought of speaking to so many people, I came out of the experience having a deep-seated appreciation for the role that public engagement plays in any organization’s mission, particularly those that strive to educate and excite the public about science and technology. The experience ignited in me a passion for engaging the general public in dialog about my job, about NASA, about my passions, and it’s created in me a sense of obligation to share my experiences and opportunities with those around me.

Each leg of my own journey in life thus far has prepared me in some manner to come closer to realizing the childhood aspiration I proclaimed was mine at such an early age. My avid enthusiasm for science and math has led me to a great number of opportunities and adventures, ones that I’ve been fortunate to share with others. And if given the opportunity, a “Month at the Museum” could afford me another formative event that will further shape me and help me share the value and excitement of science and technology with the world.

I Now Pronounce You...

Somewhere between my first real job and my first friend’s wedding, the process pretty much solidified itself:

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” or “I’m so glad we finally saw each other!” followed by a quick glance at the hand – left, ring finger, to be precise.

I’m not even positive when this quick one-two came to be; I suddenly realized one day that it’s become the commonplace procedure.

Friday night, I reconnected with two high school friends, happily married (one with a kid), after quite some time.

Two words aptly describe the experience: heartwarming and terrifying.

On the eve of my twenty sixth year, I sit at a definitive juncture – one that finds me tussling with issues typical of most twenty-somethings. And yet, the upbringing in a society that has embedded a feeling of self-absorbency in its youth has me tossing and turning, night and day, to find a reclusive sanctuary, where my irrational fears & insecurities can be recognized, appreciated, and allayed…once and for all.

I say all this, not to elicit sympathy or advice, but merely to articulate the very reason for my seemingly severe disdain of all things celebratory of love.

Perhaps it is as simple as some unrequited schoolgirl crush, or perhaps it is the symptom of a deep-rooted expectation, entrenched in not only our society’s view of the life cycle, but humanity’s.

Even a few weeks after the fact, a particular conversation with my grandmother stands out in my mind. Mere minutes after beginning a chat, the first in a few weeks’ time, my grandmother broached the question I prepare to hear each time I have a conversation with her…except this time, it made its appearance in record time.

“When are you going to get married?” followed by the guilt-producing, “Will I even get to see you get married?”

Really, grandma…seriously?

Fine, let’s forget that – I prepared myself to hear that one…it’s definitely not the first time, and I’d be willing to bet a good chunk of chain that it’s not the last (and you’d be an absolute fool to bet against me on that one).

Then, she hit me with another gem…one I hadn’t heard before, but one that really struck a chord with me:

“You can’t just work all the time, all your life. What are you going to do with all that money? It’s not worth it, if you don’t have people to grow old with and look after you.”

My initial, instinctual reaction was to just allow the words to go in one ear and out the other, but over time, her words came back to haunt me. Coupled with the revelation that my mother and her friends were likewise on the lookout for “the one,” I found myself becoming more and more frustrated with the position I found myself in.

Before I really even knew much about boys and marriage, I knew one thing, and one thing alone: I was going to work for NASA. I loved space; I wanted to be an astronaut. That was the end of the story. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Sixteen years later, I found myself setting foot on the ground treaded by legends, past and present, realizing that dream I held for so long. Not merely a job, nor even a career…it’s the embodiment of something I envisioned before I was tainted or biased by societal expectations.

It's never been about money...about prestige. From the very beginning, it's been only about the fulfilling of an innate curiosity, an indulging in true, unbridled passion for the unknown, the unchartered.

Any vision of my life that I’ve ever known, or will ever know (I’m certain), has always included my passion for human spaceflight.

As I sit here, weeks after that conversation with my grandmother, and weeks after that revelation of my mother’s plans, and mere days after the nostalgic night with old friends, I’m left to wonder…as friends tie the knot, have adorable children, and nurture their families…

Will I be ostracized or frowned upon for being so in love with something?

Will my future hold a love that rivals that which I’ve shared with spaceflight (and music – my other, equally weighted passion)?

Or will I be left to cave to societal and familial pressures, compromising my beliefs and expectations, in the pursuit of externally anticipated happiness?