I used to believe my future was in the stars.
Not in a spiritual way: I had a strong love for astronomy and wanted to be an astronaut when I was little.
That quickly changed.
I realized that I had a fear of the ocean after a trip to the aquarium. I had heard that astronauts trained in the sea, and big fish scared me.
Their bulging eyes stared at you constantly.
I have never seen a fish blink. There's something about that gaze that makes you feel tiny, small, insignificant.
Almost as if you're incapable of being remotely like them.
And thank god I never will.
So, I turned back to the stars years later.
I thought long and hard about what I wanted to become. I had jumped from architect to teacher to anatomical illustrator
until I finally turned my eyes back to the heavens.
There was something about them that never ceased to enchant me.
They know their place.
There is a comforting sense of permanence to them. They hold fast to their course and their aim, never swaying, as far as we can tell.
I wanted to be an astrophysicist.
I could come to understand how and why they work. The main inspiration in my life: I could finally unlock the secrets to their greatness. Their silent sureness.
Their consistency. Their