20 years ago, in 9th grade, my English teacher had us write an essay on our dreams for what we wanted to do in the future when we grew up. I wrote about my dream to be one of the first private citizens to fly in space, that I would live to see a world in which private citizens would have that opportunity. He gave me a C, and wrote on my essay that if I wanted to go into space, that I should "dream of being an astronaut." Because that's what I meant. Obviously. Well, Mr. Kull, being an astronaut would have been awesome and is a wonderful dream and goal... just not for me. Telling people what they should dream about defeats the purpose of dreams. My dream was, and still is, frankly, rooted in something larger; a wish for humanity to advance to the point where regular people could go into space. I don't want to go up and fix a telescope. I just want to look out the window. I know the path to that dream is a lot of small moves and the persistence of talented people. Luckily, it turns out, I'm not the only one who has this dream. And I'm thrilled, and not at all surprised, by that. Going to look into this more, do some homework, and figure out the veracity of it all... but if there's a chance of getting to space in my lifetime, I have to hope that something like this actually works. Small moves.
Plus, it would be cool to be the first playwright in space. Just, ya know... because, right?!
Thoughts. From my brain. Anything to do with how we tell stories and the stories we tell each other. Literally and figuratively.
Writer. Husband. Father. Effulgent dreamer. A Fightin' Irishman (@NDdotEDU '01). A playwriting Bobcat (MFA in Playwriting, @OhioU '13). I write plays. I'm a geek. I wanted to be an astronaut. I go places in my head.