Tagged With senior week 2016

As a teenager, when my teachers asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always told them I wanted to write for the New Yorker. Now that I've finally hit adulthood, I have a different answer to that question: I want to do space stuff, because space is fucking great.

Sure, the world around us is slowly crumbling, human interaction has never felt less genuine, no one I've talked to in years seems particularly happy and everything feels utterly, inescapably hopeless -- but 190 years ago curly fries were considered an "edible garnish." Are you kidding me? Our malnourished and misguided ancestors couldn't even order a side order of these delicious grease spirals. Their lives must have been poorer for it.

I'm from Kentucky, a state which, when people think about it at all, conjures up images of rednecks, moonshine, and Hee-Haw. But I grew up in Lexington, the second-largest city In the state, which is made up almost entirely of suburbs -- there's no sense of "country" heritage, no accents, and (until well after I left to make my fortune in the world of professional nerdery) almost nothing to distinguish it from similar cities in the Midwest other than the fact there were horse farms nearby. I'm from Kentucky, but there's been very little in my life that clearly marks me as a Kentuckian other than two things: a love of bourbon and the fact that my dad has met Colonel Harland Sanders.