“When I grow up, I want to be an astronomer.” I thought I had the coolest ambition ever. I haven’t heard any of my classmates give that profession when we’re asked in grade school – all of them wanted to be doctors, nurses, stewardesses, princesses (it was an all-girls school). So, when I said I wanted to be an astronomer, my classmates looked at me, the expression on their faces was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. My teacher asked me, then: “Why don’t you want to become an astronaut?”
That was a very good question. I actually wanted to become an astronaut, but I thought it was too mainstream – that it was almost as cool as becoming a doctor. So, I said, “Everyone wants to be an astronaut, but being an astronaut is dangerous. Anything can happen in space. I want to be in Houston – in the command center where they maneuver space missions. I want to be the boss of the astronaut.”
“But don’t you want to go to space?” my teacher asked.
“Yeah, probably,” I answered. “But I prefer being on Earth.”
Later on, I realized that to become an astronaut meant that I would have to take up a bunch of Math subjects (I loved Science subjects but I hated everything Math), and that there was no fast way to become an astronomer – cause you have to take a course in meteorology, then you major in something else (again, more math) until you become an astronomer. And the study that was entailed in becoming one took about ten years. So, I abandoned the idea of becoming an astronomer.
But even during grade school, I already loved to write. My first stories were written when I was in Grade One on scratch Dot Matrix paper – at about the same time I wanted to be an astronomer.
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