A Little (Aero)Space on Earth

That’s the key to anything in manned spaceflight really.

You’ve got to think long and hard about something.

Most of that is the “What if such and such went wrong”, and then you build into the vehicle a means by which such and such does not occur.

“Strategic Contingency”

There’s really only so much you can prepare for and a signifigantly large portion that you can’t, and those are the very things that you plan for. Those impossible situations.

I’m surprised no one’s come up with a solution to if 1+1 suddenly was equal to 3.

Right now is a time of transition.

No one really knows where we’re headed.

Orion is under production already, but it’s still years away from even its first test flight. And worst of all: Congress.

Congress, it seems, doesn’t understand how spaceflight works. Essentially a group of 500+ lawmakers, with no science degrees, is telling us how to design our next round of rockets.

And thanks to those who would rather save jobs in their districts as opposed to letting workers move to different companies in the name of advancement, your tax-dollar funded Space Launch System [which many derisively call “The Senate Launch System”] will be built off of 1960’s rocket-design architecture.

In other words, we’re rehashing the Saturn V and barely getting the same lift capability. When there are so many other new, much more improved launch systems, such as using ULA’s Delta IV Heavy or Atlas V and possible SpaceX’s Falcon Heavy, your Congressman has told us that we have to build a 1960’s rocket for our 21st Century exploration.

Before the final flight of the Shuttle, I had put in to transfer to Education. Luckily almost immediately after Atlantis landed, I was officially transferred and kept my job.

My passions are primarily in design, but ultimately, I was not interested in, with all due disrespect, designing a 50 year old rocket for Senator Dipshit so his district can save 4 jobs.

But at the same time, when I was in that critical age range of 10-13 years old, not once did anyone, except for my parents, encourage me to take the career path I’ve chosen.

“A science degree isn’t worth it and it’s too hard. Why don’t you major in English?” is the exact words my high school counselor told me.

Here’s an idea for America: Quit saying things are too hard.

No they’re not. A worthwhile endeavor is never easy. People don’t climb Mount Everest because it’s easy. They climb it for the total challenge it offers and very importantly: because it is there.

I am an utter idiot when it comes to math, and I work in a field where mathematic skills are key. I AM NOT okay with people when they deride math, simply because everything in your daily life is controlled by some form of mathematics. I never looked at math as something I couldn’t do, I looked at it as the next level of a challenge. My goal wasn’t just to get good at math, it was to perfect my ability at it.

The easy road feels good, but in the long run, it’s a road that’s flat and uninteresting.

Government funded human spaceflight is turning into that flat and uninteresting road, and not because it is easy, but because Congress doesn’t want to put the funding, nor the effort into it, regardless of the public support NASA receives.

Jumping ship entirely may have been a good idea, but I like this industry way too much.

It’s 5AM.

I can’t sleep.

“You never sleep the night before a launch,” is what I often tell people.

Well, I lied: I slept 3 hours.

I lay awake for the next 30 minutes until a text hits my phone.

“wthr @60%”

It’s improved from the initial prediction of “30% go for weather”. Sounds like Atlantis may be going afterall.

I skip my panned wake-up time for 6AM and head down to the shower. Cereal for breakfast [better goodies await once in the office], work clothes on [polo, jeans, Vans slipons].

The drive to work is my usual, no traffic hiccups.

In and I drop my stuff off in the office. We’re set to do a public Q&A before and a bit of time after liftoff.

Our books are ready (about 15 pages of procedure to go over during launch) and after a quick review lasting from 7:15AM till 7:50, we head down to face the crowd for the final time.

Nearly 200 people are there to watch on our 15-foot media wall. Young, old, knowledgeable and clueless. They’re all here to watch the main event, and who can blame them?

I handle the crowd as usual, apparently I’m the only engineer there who can talk to the public AND do their job correctly. Who knew.

“I herrrrrd we’re gonna’ be gittin’ rides from them Russians!” someone points at me asking.

“That’s right,” I reply, “And considering that the Russian astronauts NASA took up to Mir and the ISS on the Shuttle didn’t complain, neither should we.”

“Why is the Shuttle program ending?”

“Well,” one of the experts we allowed from outside to come in and speak with us opens his mouth, “President Obama decided it was time for the Shuttle program to end.”

“Not to mention the official call for the Shuttle program to end came under the Bush administration,” I make sure to add, “This current Congress gave additional funding to allow the flight of STS-135 and Obama is pushing to increase NASA’s budget over the next few years.”

After a half-an-hour spent mostly correcting misconceptions, outright lies and explaining how the Shuttle will launch, we retreat upstairs to our room.

Littered with laptops, computer screens and TV’s, we’re all set to make sure the telemetry data is “on the line”, essentially making sure the Shuttle is going up into space on the planned trajectory it should take.

The countdown hold at T-9min releases. This hold is built in and lasted 41mins, this allows Control in Florida to assure for a final time that Atlantis is ready to go. Ground Launch Sequencer begins its check of over 1,000 parameters to make sure the bird is ready for launch. At T-31sec the official handover to Atlantis’ computers will occur so long as all is well.

At T-5min the onboard Auxiliary Power Units, fuel cells that give the Shuttle hydraulic power so a controlled ascent can occur, start-up, and within a few seconds readings are looking good.

There is less chatter than usual. We’re all watching our screens anticipating everything.

On my laptop in front of me is a contingency list, essentially boxes with arrows that point to possible abort modes we may need to run. Our TAL Abort site for this launch window is Zaragosa AFB in Spain, which the Shuttle can make if it needs to just cross the Atlantic Ocean due to a problem.

Our AOA Abort site is Edwards AFB, Atlantis landing there if a problem besets the Shuttle only allowing it to orbit once.

T-2min, we double check everything. All food and drinks are out of our room, no need to have them, they’ll just get in the way.

T-1min, all non-essential personal are gone, not that there were any with us.

“45…”

A quick check of my workstation and everything looks good. I’m bouncing my leg nervously, sitting back in my chair, hand covering my chin.

STS-135 is set to begin ascent at 8:46:26, right in the middle of a 10min window that would allow it to reach the ISS.

“Clock will hold at T-31sec due to a failure.”

Instantly a flurry of sounds, mostly the clicking of computer mice, begins within our room, but quickly stops. We get word that the GVA has not fully retracted. The Gaseous Vent Arm sits on top of the External Tank, capturing all the gases venting until T-2min till launch.

Nothing we can do about it except sit and wait.

We can confirm through our own cameras avalible to us that is has cleared.

There’s 3m16s left in allowable hold time left and the confirmation that resumption of the clock will begin:

“3…2…1…Mark…Go for auto-sequence start.”

“20…”

My palms are sweating.

“15…”

Are we really about to do this? crosses my mind, as it had for the previous ascents I worked.

“Firing chain armed,” I hear in my headset.

“10…9..8…7…”

“Looking nominal for SSME ignition.”

“6…5…4…3…”

“Confirm SSME at 100…”

“2…”

Here we go…

“1…”

Actually, not we, they. 

I correct myself a lot.

“SRB IGNIT.” my computer screen lets me know.

Up, up and away.

Downstairs the crowd cheers. Upstairs we watch. The crowd often forgets there’s still over 8 minutes 30 seconds of powered flight left.

At T+5sec the tower is cleared.

“Twang nominal, engines are gimbaling, roll program init.”

“ROLL PROGRAM HOUSTON!” is called out by Commander Christopher Furgeson at T+7sec. Houston acknowledges.

“Confirm, engines at 100%, three good APU’s, SSME 72 on the upcoming. Riding uphill.” I check in for the launch with my first commands.

Our next action, the SSME’s throttling down to 72% of rated performance, allowing the Shuttle to pass through the transonic region safely, occurs. We confirm.

Once through, we hear from Houston those cringe-worthy words:

“Atlantis, go at throttle up, no action DPDT.”

We’ve done our job for the first part of ascent flawlessly.

“Coming up on SRB sep.”

“Copy SRB sep.”

“Standby SRB sep.”

The two largest solid-fueled rockets ever designed detach and fall away.

“Can confirm on telemetry on SRB sep, OMS ignit. 2 engine TAL active,” I say, letting everyone know that at this point we can make it to Zaragosa on two-good engines.

“Confirm that guidance now on track post-SRB sep.”

“What is that?”

We all turn to look. There’s a little “D” graphic near the bottom right corner of the screen. Shortly after we’ve all seen it, it dissapears.

“This was the last launch too! Someone’s gonna lose their job!”

“Atlantis, 2 engine TAL.” Houston sends up.

“2 eng—-“

“Confirm we’ve lost audio and video signal.”

This generate an interest in us. Video and audio feeds don’t just cut out on their own.

“Confirm loss of signal.”

“I can confirm as well,” my boss says, “We’re out of ran—-“

“—-Copy,” I butt in, “Telemetry is still on.”

“Copy, go again.”

“Telemetry is still on. We are on the line. Signal issue with the video. Telemetry still on and we are on the line,” I’m stern this time.

“Copy, we read telemetry. KSC is working on the video fix.”

It’s not unusual to lose a video feed on launch. It is unusual to lose audio. It’s extremely unusual to lose some video and audio feeds.

But we’ve absolutely never lost ALL video and audio feeds before, hence the slight calm panic we all went through.

“Confirm that we are now switching to 1 engine TAL 104.”

“Copy,” the telemetry is looking perfect. Minimal adjustments. All that extra work is showing.

“What the fuck. That “D” is back. Get that shit off of there. No one wants to see that! NO ONE!”

“Atlantis, press to ATO.” Houston calls.

“Press to ATO.”

Now T+5min in the ascent, Atlantis can make minimal orbital requirements. In this time it’s traveled the equivalent of Los Angeles to San Francisco in 5 minutes.

“We are go for rollover,” I call out, telemetry is so smooth, I’m beginning to wonder if I even needed to come in for the launch, but then mentally slap my wrist: It’s the last you idiot.

“Atlantis, single engine OPS-3.”

“Single engine OPS-3.”

Atlantis’ SSME’s swivel and she rolls over to a heads-up position.

Since the ISS had recently performed an orbital altitude boost, the pitch of the Shuttle is much higher than I ever remember seeing for a ISS ascent.

“Looks like we’ve got enough power to make it to orbit. Looks good,” I call out, the little red line following the fat blue-line of the planned trajectory.

“Atlantis, press to MECO.”

The final roll completes.

“Press to MECO.”

Furgeson isn’t too talkative.

Once we hear from Houston, “Go for plus-x, go to the pitch.”

We know their isn’t much left for us to do. I’m now watching data streaming in live from a machine moving at 12,000mph. There’s still a minute let, and in those 60 seconds the Shuttle will gain nearly 5,000mph.

“Telemetry showing no OHMS 1 needed. OHMS 2 yes.”

We all fall silent just as MECO occurs, the massive disruption of the smooth engine plume evident.

“We have MECO,” likely the last thing I’ll ever say involving the Shuttle during a mission (I wasn’t sure then and still don’t know if I’m working re-entry).

Atlantis detaches from the ET, and that’s it. Our job is over.

It’ll take a few days for the data to come in completely and be throughly analyzed before we know just how well of a job we’ve done, but it looks like we may have had a perfect launch.

It’d be a fitting end.

Final Ascent Meeting - 7/7/11

Weather is the ciritcal issue during this meeting.

Showers and tunderstorms within 20 miles of the launch pad - no go.

Just before our meeting Pad 39 took a lightning strike. We went in not knowing if this would affect the mission timeline and ended the meeting finding out it didn’t.

Regardless, lightning is not something we mess around with. The exhaust plume from the Shuttle allows it to be conductive enough so that lightning would use it as the quickest route to the ground.

That’s not a good situation if several million volts suddenly surge through a guidance system.

None of us really want to admit it, aterall, we’ve got to show the cameras just how brave we are tomorrow, but we’re nervous.

There is no such thing as a routine launch.

There is nothing routine about 4,500,000 of hydrogen and oxidizer being lit and tossing 250,000lbs into a continuous freefall around the Earth.

If you ever heard someone call a launch, “normal”, “routine” or “Easy”, I hear-by give you permission to punch them in the face, that’s if you do before I do.

Although weather is at 30% for tomorrow, that doesn’t mean we wont launch. If there’s a break in the clouds and rain or the forecast is just plain wrong, we’re going.

I arrive at work tomorrow at 7AM PST.

At 8AM PST I begin my talk to the public about the launch and what we’ll be doing.

At 8:20AM PST I shut up and go into the back.

At 8:26AM PST we give the final go.

At 8:26:40AM PST the SSME’s ignite.

At 8:26:46AM PST the SRB’s ignite.

Then Altantis goes.

This is usually folowed by a massive roar of cheering and applause by the gathered crowd.

We, on the other hand, know there’s still 8 minutes left of engine burn time, so we sit in the back nervously watching, looking for any little imperfection that can suggest there may be a problem with the ascent.

If not, excellent.

If there is, then we go straight to work on contingency.

Either way, we’re working.

The first order of business was going through the final hour before launch. This includes many things such as final computer checks, software, lots of swithcing to internal power, good APUs [Auxiliary Power Units, fuel cells that give the Shuttle hydraulic power so it can gimbal, or move, its engines on liftoff], launch windows and other goodies. Then comes the doozies:

Abort Modes.

Shuttle abort modes are frightening scenarios.

Essentially, an abort means something has gone wrong with a machine generating 7 Million+ [7,000,000+] pounds of thrust carrying several millions of pounds of super-cooled fuel and oxidizer.

There’s a reason why the closest people to the Shuttle on liftoff are at the VIP/Press site that is 3 miles from the pad. If you took the total explosive force and assumed that everything on the Shuttle’s pad stack detonated, it’d have an explosive force of a small nuclear bomb.

The first abort measure is the RSLS [Redundent Set Launch Sequencer] and is computer controlled. From anytime the Space Shuttle’s Main Engines are started (usually around T-6.6sec) till T-0 the SSME’s can be shut-down for an “on the pad” abort. Bad computer sequencing, bad SSME startup, the SSME’s not throttling up in a proper amount of time and a host of other problems can trigger an RSLS. It’s happened five times before.

From T-0 to T+123sec, during the time of SRB burn, there is no hope are no possible abort modes. Anything that occurs in that period has to be ridden out.

Unlike the Shuttle’s liquid-fueled main engines, the SRB’s [Solid Rocket Boosters], using solid-fuel, can not be throttled/turned-off/extinguished until they burnout and are separated.

The first 2 minutes of ascent is when we hold our breaths, often our faces turning a shade of deep sea blue in the process.

Say during the ascent of STS-135 the Shuttle loses 2 main engines, you’d hear the call, “Atlantis: RTLS, RTLS.”

RTLS [Return to Launch Site] is called within T-0 till T+2:30, and no matter where called, the Shuttle will have to wait until SRB separation is confirmed before turning back. At the time the SRB’s are jettisoned, the Shuttle is so high above the thick lower atmosphere it can turn completely around, feeling very little if any aerodynamic stress, and burn the SSME’s until downrange velocity is killed. It then burns its engines to gain velocity back towards Kennedy and dumps the External Tank once it has enough. Gliding back, the Shuttle lands on a runway at Kennedy, approximately 20 mins after the RTLS is called.

STS-1, the first Shuttle launch ever, was originally planned to be a RTLS, but the two astronauts selected for the already gutsy mission, John Young and Robert Crippen, disagreed so vehemently that management cast that idea aside.

RTLS is the most dangerous abort, but not because of how early it occurs in the ascent, but because you’ll have to wait and hope the problem doesn’t intensify until the SRB’s separate. Thankfully there has never been a situation where it has been needed.

When the forward velocity and downrange distance of the Shuttle make it impossible for a RTLS to Kennedy, the callout “Negative return” is confirmed between Mission Control and the Shuttle’s commander.

This is what an RTLS would sound like through the coms.

After seperation, things may go smoothly until, say, 2 engines on the Shuttle may go out, to which you’d promptly hear, “Atlantis, switch to TAL, switch to TAL.”

TAL [Transoceanic Abort Landing] can be called anytime from SRB separation till MECO [Main Engine Cutoff, when the Shuttle’s engines shut down as it is in it’s proper orbit in space] at ~T+8:30. Essentially, the Shuttle would continue accelerating on it’s engines, eventually dump the External Tank and land on a runway at that day’s designated landing site in Europe.

The planned TAL sites for STS-135 are Zaragoza Air Base and Moron Air Base, both in Spain.

This is a fairly safe way of returning a Shuttle from a potential problem, but hasn’t been used as no situation has called for it.

AOA [Abort Once Around] would see the Shuttle actually complete nearly a full orbit before landing at either Edwards Air Force Base or White Sands Space Harbor. Due to STS-135’s crew being only 4, this has had some modifications to it as the usual crew of 6-7 will not be there to speed up the procedures for re-entry. The time for AOA to be called is usually between 5-10 seconds during ascent, and is not the favored abort mode.

ATO [Abort to Orbit], in which the Shuttle would continue to climb into space, but MECO would come with the Shuttle in a lower than planned orbit. This is an extremely safe abort mode and has actually occurred on one Shuttle ascent, STS-51F.

It’s a lot to remember, and in the event of an abort we need to keep our cool as we’re in front of several hundred people, the last thing you want to do is show a crowd a panicked expression. and eventually make the proper decisions so we can assist Kennedy and Johnson Space Center as best as possible.

“RTLS would probably be suicidal, just lead to leveling out the orbiter in it’s glide phase and the astronauts bailing out.”

“Yes,” I answer, “Those astronauts would have to bail out. But,” I remind, “Then they’re away from the problem.”

There was a problem in the 60’s: Rockets got used once, and that was it for them.

Just look at a Saturn V. The only thing that comes back is the Apollo Command Module, a measly gumdrop shaped vehicle that fit, roughly, “three men on a couch”.

People don’t like seeing their taxdollars burn up, unless it wars, we’re really good at those…

So to try and curb this problem of blowing what today would be billions upon billions of dollars on a launch, the idea of a reusable craft came to the forefront. After much speculation, conceptual work, and then actual design, the Space Shuttle was born.

The birth of the Shuttle meant the end of the Apollo Applications Program. Essentially, a series of missions using Apollo architecture that would allow for the first manned flyby of Venus in 1975 and the first manned landing on Mars in 1986.

25 years ago, we could’ve already have landed on Mars.

Eventually AAP was developed into the highly successful Skylab space-station (not the first, the Soviets beat us to that as well) and the political cooler that was the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project mission, often jokingly called “Apollo 18” within our inner circle.

The Shuttle reignited the American populace’s enthusiasm, that much is assured. Apparently landing once on the Moon is fine, so no one payed much attention to the rest of the lunar missions, save for Apollo 13.

During the creation of the Space Shuttle, It’s goals were simple:

1) Lower the cost-per-pound of sending “stuff” into space.

2) Lower the costs of operations

3) Increase the frquency in which we went to space to roughly one launch per 2 weeks.

4) Improve the safety of spaceflight.

Very appealing to bureaucrats, sexy to the public.

Back in 1972, these things were considered feasible and within our grasp. But science was not a high priority for presidents (and still isn’t, sadly). Hell, Kennedy didn’t really care if we did land on the moon “in the decade”, Cold War posturing had many a promise missed.

It wasn’t until LBJ, a man who put NASA on a awe-inspiring pedestal, came into office and increased funding significantly that we knew we could make it to the Moon, and we squeaked in just barely.

After the end of Project Apollo in 1975, we were all waiting on the Shuttle.

NASA through the 70’s was underfunded. Delivery of Columbia with it’s first mission was scheduled to occur in 1977, it’s first few including a mission to dock with Skylab to reboost its orbit.

But instead, delivery was taken in 1979, with the first flight April 12th, 1981, four years behind schedule. Skylab had long since re-entered the atmosphere, so now a new idea hit NASA’s best and brightest:

Give us money, and we’ll deploy your satellite form our Shuttle.

Things went well. The Shuttle was a rousing success. It seemed that LEO was only a decade away for us regular folks.

The first flight of a civilian onboard the Shuttle was set. January 28th, 1986.

STS-51L.

72 seconds after liftoff, after a plume of hot gases had forced their way through an o-ring, burning away at the bracket that kept it firmly attached, and experiencing the most powerful upper-atmospheric winds a Shuttle has ever flown through, the left SRB [Solid Rocket Booster] broke open the ET [External Tank]. Instantly 400,000 gallons of propellants vaporized, Space Shuttle Challenger was forced sideways at nearly 800mph, and the rest is history.

In the end, it boiled down to multiple problems: manufacture defects, overzealous managers scoffing at engineers concerns.

But it did one thing: the death blow to NASA.

“It could’ve been prevented” a former Shuttle engineer told me at an AIAA conference, “The Air Force came in and removed critical elements of our original design. There were escape rockets attached to the side of the Shuttle, those could’ve been lit and the Shuttle would’ve pulled away. Also there were gigantic scoops that could open up on the SRB’s, effectively shutting them down.”

He crossed his arms with a frown.

“But the Air Force told us to remove it. We did: and the Air Force never bought a Shuttle.”

Regardless of who was to blame for the shortcomings and faults that lead to America’s first fatalities in a space mission, it’s clear: The Shuttle was extremely unsafe.

A point proven 17 years later during Columbia’s final re-entry. A part of the heat-shield, having been punctured by a piece of foam shed from the ET on liftoff, let the 3,000F hot plasma the Shuttle turns the air it rams into at 17,000mph into that hole. The rest, well, you know.

As we look at the scorecard, the Shuttle has accomplished none of the goals it set out to.

It still costs $15,000 per kilogram to spend something into space.

It still costs billions of dollars per launch ($1.5-$2 Billion)

In 2009 a total of 5 Shuttle flights occurred, well off the expected average of 26 per year.

Catastrophic failures were initially estimated to be around 1 for every 1000 flights. Now that number is more realistically placed at 1 in <75 flights.

Only a handful of communication satellites were taken up, and not much profit was to be had.

Total failure from an engineering stand-point.

But damnit, as much as the Shuttle has sapped the lifeblood out of human spaceflight, at the same time it has had missions that inspire and transcend history. Nothing else can lift 60,000lbs into orbit with such grace and style. It’ll be remember as the first reuseable spacecraft, and for that, it’s history, no matter how challenging and triumphant, will be cemented forever.

As much as I hate the old bird, you’ve got to admit, it deserves all the love it gets.

The Space Shuttle is a double-edged sword to me. I love it as much as I hate it.

But this is a debate for a later post.

For now, our first meeting concerning the ascent (also known as “launch) of STS-135, the last Shuttle mission ever, was underway.

Time is a fun thing. With a majority of NASA launches and all Shuttle launches occurring at Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral in Florida, we’re often at the mercy of Eastern Standard Time.

STS-134’s launch was at 8:56AM EST, which means here on the West Coast, we arrived in for the ascent work at 5AM sharp with ignition at 5:56AM.

You can imagine a lot of coffee and donuts were consumed that morning.

Right now there’s not much happening. We’re still 13 days away. Within the week we’ll begin to talk about ascent procedures, statistics and abort modes (those are a ton of fun to talk about).

For now: logistics for our Launch Party.

The public is invited to meet with us, listen to us talk before the launch about the Shuttle’s launch system and then watch the launch on our 15ft media wall.

STS-133 drew a crowd of nearly 300 people.

Because of STS-134’s launch time being so early, and on a Monday, we expected no-one to show. But 20 people, who that morning we termed, “The Veterans”, showed to watch.

Being the last mission, there’s a sense of dread.

“We only get to do this one more time,” one of my fellow employees says.

“Yes, then we’ll get to cover probe launches, and eventually we’ll cover Orion launches,” I add, trying to keep some form of optimism alive.

As much as I hate it, I’ll miss the Shuttle.

Where do I begin?

Well, a blank piece of paper usually. College rule lined, printer, napkin, post-it. It’s where a lot of ideas often begin. It’s amazing how, with the right kind of people, drawings can become concepts, concepts can evolve into prototypes and eventually prototypes move into production.

Maybe I should begin by saying nothing on here is officially endorsed by my employers (if you’re reading this, you know what I do. If you don’t you’ll know soon enough) and it most likely will never be endorsed, and that’s fine with me.

All the posts on this Tumblr are my own, represent me, my feelings and my experiences in this amazing world I’m deep in the middle of.

This world is a very interesting one. A lot of people subscribe to the idea hat our heyday was in the 60’s, when we sent “real men” into space and eventually sent 12 people to walk on a distant body you may know as “The Moon”.

Now we lob ourselves just 190 miles above the surface. We’re technically still in the atmosphere, albeit at those heights that atmosphere is extremely thin, but still, the International Space Station has to reboost itself frequently during a year due the high-level oxygen molecules it collides with at orbital velocity. That creates enough drag that, if left uncheck, you pull it into the lower atmosphere and eventually destroy it in a fiery re-entry.

This is most likely what’ll happen around 2030.

So what do I do?

I am a part of the education of the public at large. We relay all the cool things NASA and it’s affiliates are doing. I have a background that deals heavily with aerospace and aeronautics, so when I talk, I make sure to pepper in the information that a lot of people don’t know.

I design exhibits, create programming and promote that awareness.

After all, it is your tax dollars that makes all of these amazing and wonderous journey’s possible; we’re as transparent as the air you breathe.

On this Tumblr I’ll talk about what it’s like to live, eat, breathe and sleep NASA. I’ll also talk about my current collegiate exploits, which involves pursing a Bachelors in Science.

I’m in a bit of a crisis when it comes to education. Afterall, planetary sciences, my first love, is very different from astronautics. Currently, it’ll depend upon which college closest to me offers a substantial program. As much as Arizona is the mecca for people like me in this field, I come from neither a rich family, nor one willing to lie about our financial state so I can get a full-ride.

I’ll also talk a bit personal as well. I’m human, we all are, and my opinions want to be heard.

Also, I promise that all of my posts will be entertaining and funny. No one wants to hear Ben Stein talk all-day.

I also have a propensity to use large words along with fucking shit words.

But in the end they’re my words.

Gotta’ keep it real, know what I’m saying?