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?

I sure don't know what it is...

Something’s missing, and I don’t know how to fix it.

John Mayer’s tune about life’s tribulations reads like my life story right now.

I’m not alone. I wish I was…because then I’d know I was down because I couldn’t find a friend around, to love me like they do right now.

Last fall, I took a writing course, with the full intention of starting a book project, characterizing the mid-twenties slump that more and more twenty-somethings have been experiencing. Soon thereafter, work picked up at break-neck speed, and I rode those coat-tails for as long as I possibly could.

Alas, it’s with a heavy heart I must report, mostly to myself, that it’s time to hop off the roller coaster and exit the park. I don’t even like roller coasters…well, not real ones, anyway. Figurative ones are OK…except when they lead to ambiguity, uncertainty, and the ever-dreaded disillusionment.

Something’s missing…and I don’t know what it is.

This was the precise struggle I was faced with a few months ago. I got derailed, and now I’m back.

Friends….check.

Money….check.

Well-slept…check.

Opposite sex….well, not quite, but that’s quite alright.

Guitar…an equivalent, so check.

Microphone…likewise, another check.

Messages waiting on me when I come home….close enough.

So, where’s the hopeless discontent coming from? It’s so much harder to fix a problem that you know exists, but can’t articulate or pin point.

Acknowledgement is the first step, right? So, what’s the second?

Quarter Life Crisis, what?

I’m 25 years old, having just stepped over the threshold of that quarter-century milestone that scares so many of my peers (I’d be lying if I ever said that it didn’t worry me just a bit, too), a few months ago. I have my dream job…the one I confidently declared would indeed be mine at age eight. I graduated from a relatively well-ranked college, with a relatively versatile degree, and with very little debt accompanying my name. I have a good group of friends who I’ve met through my experiences in life and who have all helped me in some way or another to recognize my full potential. I have hobbies that keep me busy, ones that help me realize my passions and invigorate in me a sense of accomplishment and commitment that very few things can give me.

So, what’s the issue? It seems as if I’ve really got everything figured out, and yet I have this nagging desire to know what the future holds, an annoying sentiment that constantly has me wondering where my life is ultimately headed. It’s an all-too-familiar feeling that has plagued my conscious thought for the last few years. For so long, this familiar was exciting, welcoming, fascinating – I held to the belief that things would work out in the end; so, I was just going along for the ride, enjoying the view. But, after twenty-some odd years of structured existence, I am left in a completely unstructured world for the first time, with the unfamiliar ability to make every conscious (and even unconscious) decision directly impacting my life.

And it’s daunting…incredibly so.

Growing up, I, along with many of my other generational peers, have had many options and choices: apple juice or milk, soccer or gymnastics, piano or violin lessons, state school or out-of-state school. For me, personally, these choices provided broad experiences, memories, and skills that will last me throughout my lifetime. As college was well underway, I realized that I had just as many of those decisions waiting to be made on the other side – I panicked. But, I quelled my fears, knowing that my internship would likely see me through to a job that I would completely enjoy, and that’s all there is to life at that point, right? Graduate from college, land a plush job…live life.

A little over two years ago, I had the fortunate opportunity of landing my dream job: the one I had visions of at age eight…and then again at ten…and then again at 14…and another time at sixteen...and still to this day. So, why am I so keen on knowing what the future holds? Why, though fully content with my present position, am I even remotely concerned about where I see myself in 5, 10, 15, or 20 years?

As I’ve struggled to answer these questions in the past few months, I’ve come to realize that this feeling is all too prevalent for my peers, as well. They, too, are struggling with the familiar thoughts and emotions that the uncertainty of our twenties brings. We lead such brick-house lives, in that everything is given to us or decided for us; we’re told exactly what to do and when to do it. The choices we are given, the decisions we make for ourselves, are still within the confines of a societal and parental structure that is deemed appropriate by those around us. We have all been brought up in a day and age where the options are limitless, and yet we still are not given much guidance in understanding and focusing our efforts towards creating meaning lives for ourselves. My generation is plagued with materialistic thoughts and expectations. We have all grown up with a plethora of electronics and goods in our homes to supplement our lives. Our parents worked tirelessly to provide us with the very best they could afford.

And yet, many of us embark on our journeys into the “real world” with little to no idea of what awaits us. We continually seek a sense of purpose in our lives, a way to understand our place in the world. And when we realize that the size of the world is inversely proportional to the likelihood of our making an impact on it, we’re left with a feeling of confusion and restlessness to actually redefine our sense of self.

So, what can we do? How can we take all of the vast number of resources available to us and turn it into our driving force? How do we use all of these things to our advantage to understand the world, ourselves, and ultimately navigate out of the murky waters of our twenties? What can we do differently as we approach this incongruous juncture in our lives to arrive on the opposite end of our 20s as driven, focused individuals whose professional and personal lives are not individual driving forces, but together help us understand our relevancy in the world?

I realized as these questions formed in my mind that if the answers were simple, and those I looked to for support for every other problem had the answers, then I’d have been golden maybe a few months, or even years, ago. I was curious what majority of my peers had the same struggles and thoughts that I did and what types of concerns they had. I wondered whether other generations felt pangs of the same sort in their twenties. I thought about our society and my upbringing, interested in what factors could have possibly led me to feel this way and how things could have changed to help prepare me more for the “real world.”

Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that we need a means of proactively addressing this struggle that we twenty-somethings face, a struggle that is more commonplace than many would care to admit or acknowledge. We need a means of preempting these feelings of hopelessness, listlessness, and frivolity. We need to not only understand the individual sources of these personal feelings, but develop a method for coping with their effects and eventually overcoming them effectively and efficiently.

With this in mind, I've decided to segue the purpose of this blog from just an avenue for person venting to perhaps a constructive analysis of the factors that influence the upbringing and development of those fondly dubbed, "Generation Y." As this site develops, I hope to add to it not only my own thoughts, but those of others around me. Perhaps eventually, it could turn into a source of added perspective to a topic of discussion that, though widespread, is often discounted or avoided.

A Farewell

Earlier this evening, about 830p, as I sat at the local Starbucks, chatting away with a very good friend from high school, I happened to check my E-mail on my phone. A little surprised to see a new message in my work inbox so late on a Sunday evening, I opened the message to discover that one of my co-workers, Ben, had passed away. My mind whirling with questions and rampant thoughts, I sat in sheer shock.

"This is just so crazy," I uttered, over and over for the next hour.

It's been almost 4 hours since I received the news, and it's no less shocking. As I sat there, trying to absorb the news, I thought about the night, just a few weeks ago, when Ben joined me and another friend for dinner. And then my mind wandered to last week, when I chatted with him online, inviting him out to a local bar for happy hour the following day. I am still having the hardest time thinking that that same person is no longer with us.

Ben was one of the nicest and most polite people I've ever met. With a smile on his face, he always greeted me with a, "Hey, Madi, how's it going?" every time we saw each other. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen him not smiling. His gentle and quiet nature really had a way of putting people at ease; and I was a bit surprised to find that he had a great sense of humor, when he opened up. I'd only just gotten to know him past our working interactions, and as another co-worker said tonight, I think my greatest sadness in all of this is that I will not be able to be friends with him and get to know him further.

The last few weeks have found me in a decent amount of inner turmoil. I've found myself struggling with an ongoing process of self-identification, attempting to define myself and that which makes me content. This emotional churning culminated in a lengthy venting session via text message to a friend, who offered me some advice: live in the present. This adage has survived centuries, and I'd heard it before, but it hit me for some reason that night. The next day, I found out a good friend needs to have an ultrasound for a medical issue - to rule things out, but still a little bit of a scare nonetheless. And now, this.

It really puts things into perspective for me. I realized tonight how easy it is to get caught up in the minute details of life, and forget to actually live. I realized how petty the complaints I've voiced over the last few days have truly been. And I thought about the legacy that we are all given the opportunity to leave when we move on.

I remember watching the movie Dead Poets' Society when I was in 8th grade, and really being struck by the phrase that became a cornerstone of the movie's premise: Carpe Diem. Never have I truly felt its fundamental nature and intent until tonight. Though sometimes tedious and tumultuous, life is such a real blessing. Every moment should be valued and appreciated...and lived. We never are guaranteed our next breath, so we should enjoy the present to its fullest extent.

It's amazing to me how little impact words like that have had on me in the past. And yet, after recent events, I can't help but feel, to the core, its fundamental message. Though I've only known him a short time, Ben has unknowingly inspired me to be the driving force behind the change I've been longing to and struggled to make in my life. The value of this thought alone I cannot even articulate in words, especially given the struggles I've had with defining and acting upon my thoughts and ideas in the recent past. So, thank you could not even begin to express the gratitude and appreciation I wish I could articulate to him in this very moment.

Rest in peace, Ben - whether you can realize it now or not, you've made a really huge impact on my life, and I thank you for it. You will be missed dearly.