Amateur Astronomer

"Orion...right?" "Wrong, that's Ursa Major." "Close, huh." "Sure. And please stop jabbing my ribs, it hurts." "Well, if there's one thing I know, it's that you are going to pass this test." "It's not a test." "You're treating it like one." "I don't want these people to think I'm just some amateur who just likes the 'aesthetics of stars." "Who cares if they do?" "Me!" "Fine. But let me just say that I believe that you are going to impress the socks off these people and have a really great time toying with super expensive telescopes while you wax poetic about the stars, probably name a constellation after yourself. And plus, the only person losing by you not believing in yourself is yourself." "Sounds like something you'd see on facebook." "It's still true. Anyways, I've gotta head out but, good luck!" "Thanks."

As I heard the sound of the door closing shut, I immediately scrambled to "Stargazing for Dummies" and flipped back to page one. However, somewhere between chapter 6 or 7 the invisible weight of fatigue began to tug at my lids, and I jumped out of my chair and headed towards the fridge. Milk, no, root beer, no red bull, bingo. Red bull, ever so rare after it had been recalled in several states because it was classified as 'deadly' and 'radioactive'. Still, driving down to Arizona a month ago to buy a set was worth it whenever I needed to push my body well past its limits. I chugged the drink in one go, crumpled it to the ground, and hopped back into the seat. The pitter patter of the rain in the windowsill seemed to be trying to lull me to sleep, but all I could hear was the sound of my brain working at a thousand miles per minute.

Ping. 'Tomorrow night at 8:00 pm we will meet in Basdy Park for the first meeting of the year. Feel free to bring whatever equipment or snacks you want, in fact, feel encouraged.' It's encouraged, meaning I'll look like dead weight if I just walk in with nothing in hand and everyone will laugh at me or glare at me or turn their backs on me like the Mean Girls in the movie Mean Girls. So, I need to get something. A telescope, according to my research, is expensive. A bag of chips and a soda, according to my experience, is not. I rolled out of bed, snatched up my jacket, phone and keys, and headed for the car. "Hello, welcome to BCR, in case you're wondering, our company decided to rebrand... after we lost the copyright claims lawsuit against NPR. Anyways, we hope you enjoy this week's episode of 'Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me.'" "Look at this photograph." "Hey now, you're an all star..." The sounds of rock pop blended together as I drove on. I passed store after store, driving for the sake of driving, driving for the sake of nerves, before finally settling on a 7/11.

Buy one slurpee, get one free, the poster with bright colors boasted. Judging by the tattered state of it, it probably isn't valid anymore. Pulling, then pushing the door, I walked into the cool air of the store, and my eyes instantly drifted to the aisle of chips. Spicy Cheetos were too spicy for some but Puffy Ones never seemed to be a fan favorite. However, Nacho Cheese Doritos were tamer relative to Spicy Cheetos while still flavorful. Grabbing the bag I started walking to the illuminated fridge in the back. For the drink, two bottles of Coca-Cola. Loading the items on the desk in front of me, I shot the cashier what must of looked like an awkward and frankly unnecessary half-smile. When I heard the familiar ding of my phone, I huffed out a silent sigh. "The secret to finding happiness: how to pursue your desires.' The secret to finding happiness, probably overselling it. Nonetheless, I bookmarked it and looked back up to the expectant and frustrated face of a teenager that looked like he wished he was anywhere but here. Grabbing nine dollars from my wallet, I once again shot an awkward smile, listened for the ping of the register, took my change, and ran into the awaiting warmth of my heated car.

Going to bed was bringing tomorrow closer to me, but as the hours ticked on and the red bull wore off, I eventually succumbed to the bone deep exhaustion I had suffered the whole day. Waking up to the sound of my harsh alarm, even the thought of consuming cereal was not enough to drag me out of the dread that had begun to overtake me. Still, I showered and headed out into the symbolic unknown. The city limits grew further and further as the quiet air calmed my frantic spirit, and by the time I reached camp I could confidently say I was feeling marginally less restless. Once I reached the hill the stargazing club was situated on, I hesitantly walked forward, half of myself begging to leave, the other begging to stay. At the sight of the telescopes, the sight of the stars seemingly painted over the sky, my steps grew more resolute until I was practically fast-walking to the group. My concerns felt increasingly unfounded the more I talked to the other members. Shoulders loosened and heart rate placated, I tilted my head to the stars above me.

Orion or Ulsa Major or Ulsa Minor or whatever it was, was beautiful, and despite the fact that to the stars I was nothing, it felt as if they were everything to me. Country to country, culture to culture, stories of people seeing entire worlds in the stars. Ulsa Major might not be a bear, but someone made it a bear. The secret to happiness is not simple, or even possible to find, but if I could look at the stars and see an archer, or look at the clouds and see a trumpet, I could make my life whatever I wanted it to be. This calm, after all, might be temporary, but hopefully I'll remember this happiness a lifetime later.