NASA, If You’re Reading This…
I do this thing. Maybe you can relate? I’ll go somewhere new, try something I’ve never done before, or learn one random fact, and suddenly I’m spiraling into a never-ending Google vortex.
Like: How exactly did James Van Der Beek know he had cancer? What does a normal poop actually look like? How long did James Van Der Beek and Katie Holmes date in real life? Are Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson secretly back together? Is Tom Cruise still into that weird religion?
You get the idea.
Anyway, my latest obsession started because my family and I visited Kennedy Space Center in Florida recently. The next day, we watched a real live rocket launch from the beach (I nearly peed my pants at the sonic boom, but that’s a story for another day). AND THEN, Christina Koch came back from space, and we have the same name, so… I’m destined to be an astronaut. Obviously.
Now, what you maybe don’t realize—or maybe you do if you’ve read Taylor Jenkins Reid’s hit 2025 summer novel Atmosphere—is that not just anyone can be an astronaut. There are countless hours of training, brutal physical demands, and, frankly, you have to be just the right amount of insane to be okay with the possibility of becoming a human baked potato if things go sideways.
And therein lies the problem: I don’t particularly enjoy any of those things.
So maybe astronaut is off the table, but that doesn’t mean I’m putting aside my spacesuit (thank you, Amazon) or removing Dune or The Martian from my TBR (yes, guys, I haven’t read these yet. Please keep the judgment to a minimum.)
And don’t think I haven’t been searching Zillow for homes in Cape Canaveral. If I can’t be an astronaut, maybe I could at least work behind the scenes at NASA or Blue Origin. Need someone to wear a faux spacesuit and greet visitors? I’m your girl.
I guess the point of my rambling is this: space is cool, yes, but mostly, I think adulthood needs more awe.
More moments that make us stop and stare. More things that remind us how small we are in the best possible way.
Watching that launch from the beach, feeling the ground shake beneath my feet, waiting for the sonic boom that made me almost pee my pants (seriously, they should warn you it comes several minutes later), it made everything else go quiet for a second, leaving only wonder in its place.
And fine, maybe I don’t need to be an astronaut.
Maybe writing stories that make people wonder is enough.
