Ride Sally Ride!

space cadet  
–noun Slang .
1.
a person who appears to be in his or her own world or out of touch with reality.

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I was abused as a child. Not physically really, but definitely emotionally and mentally. Mainly by my older brother. One of his favorite pastimes was telling me fables which I of course believed (this is still a trait. You tell me they wrote gullible in the sky and I’m gonna believe it). I believe fable telling is a habit most older siblings develop as a way to deal with their emotions of having a new kid in the house who gets more attention simply because she is better than the first kid. As my little sister says, if my brother had met all of my parents’ standards, they wouldn’t have had to try for another, better baby. My brother had the most fabulous fables simply because he never stopped telling them. This fable telling is really only a subject not to be taken lightly because I have failed to stop believing the fables. Now, I know Johnny Appleseed is fake, I know Paul Bunyan didn’t really have a blue ox, but it was only a couple of years ago that I learned other people don’t believe that life exists on Mars.

Somewhere along the way, my brother informed me that there was life on Mars. I’ve always been interested in space exploration so learning that there was indeed life on Mars was HUGE for me. I couldn’t stop thinking of these people and what their daily lives consisted of. One night at dinner (approximately 3 years ago…So, this makes me about 25 years old), my dad shared with us some news regarding the quest for life on Mars. Utterly confused (why did I have this knowledge and no one else did?), I informed my family that life had already been discovered on Mars. Already under the impression that I was a space cadet (thanks to a conversation where my dad pointed out the space shuttle in the sky, I said it was already there, he asked where and I said “the moon.” To which he laughed and laughed, told me they haven’t been back to the moon since the early 70’s and then called me a space cadet, but a confident one at that…thanks, dad. Make me feel like 1 million dollars), my dad asked how I knew there was life on Mars. It’s not my fault my family is a bunch of stupids and has no idea what NASA has been doing all these years. I decided to let them in on a little secret: The people who live on Mars are called Martians. Dad asked how I knew Martians existed and I said because they make pottery and throw their bowls at Earth. I mean, that IS where moon rocks and space trash come from. My entire family just looked at me and shook their heads before laughing hysterically. Personally, I don’t know what is so funny about this theory. If you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Martians live on Mars and make pottery, just like we have some humans on Earth that are potters. People need to get over it and realize that maybe they are the stupids who don’t know a thing about space exploration.

This summer, Eli and I went to Kennedy Space Center to play one day. We ate space dots, talked to a real astronaut, and watched a movie about walking on the moon. I learned that the next shuttle launch is on my birthday. This is very exciting because I’ve always wanted to go to the moon, and my chances of successfully sneaking onto the shuttle increase dramatically if I’m actually there. I’ve got the perfect outfit too. See, about 2 years ago, my friend Emily and I were shopping in Palm Springs, CA on what is considered “the Rodeo Dr. of the Desert” and I came upon the most exquisite and beautiful coat I had ever laid eyes upon. It was white, pouffy and had a gigantic wrap around collar. it smushed down into a little box and then pouffed right back up when left without compression. It was without a doubt THE most fantastic thing I had ever beheld and I absolutely had to have it. I purchased it, knowing everyone I knew in America was secretly jealous that I had this hot commodity and they did not. Well, I may or may not have been wrong in my assumptions. I’ve never been hated on as much as I have been hated on when I have shown that coat off. The general consensus is that I look like a space marshmallow (and don’t worry about space marshmallows not being real. Apparently that doesn’t matter when someone is insisting you have an ug coat on your back and look like a space marshmallow). THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A SPACE MARSHMALLOW PEOPLE! but have no fear. all the jeaousy hating in the world can't hold me down when i put this little number on my back.

So, on Nov. 1, my parents (they’re all curious now that they’ve realized how their daughter should have been an astronaut, but mind you, not the kind who wears diapers cross country) and I are attending the shuttle launch. Because it’s my birthday, I am entitled to wear my birthday suit. But, because I am secretly hoping to get mistaken for an astronaut – I can see it now…they will spy me sitting in the crowd and motion for me to get my hineymo back onto the shuttle so we can get this show on the road – I must dress the part. So on top of my birthday suit, I will be donning the space coat. I will also be wearing a fishbowl on my head to help me breathe. Napoleon’s moon boots are on their way to me in the mail. I’m pretty sure you’ll be seeing me on the news as the next Sally Ride! And all you haters of the puff can feel ashamed for being such stupids about space exploration. I'm totes gonna pull this off!