Living On Another Planet

Before I go on a rampage on whether or not I would like to live on another planet or not, I’m going to first address a human characteristic that makes us human: curiosity.

From the beginning of time, humans have always been curious. And oftentimes, it pays to be speculative. Hey, what happens if we cook this meat before we eat it? What’s the worst thing that can happen if we place these seeds in the ground? What if I leave this place and go live somewhere else?

Being curious is one of the reasons humanity was so successful in growing and evolving. Without the trait, most of us would still be stuck in our early caveman stages, wondering why the heck the bright circle in the sky disappeared sometimes.

Naturally, as technology advances, humans would look to places outside of Earth. Specifically, other planets. Like Mars and the moon, especially as the population keeps growing and supplies on Earth dwindle.

Now, my rampage.

At first, I didn’t think living on Mars would be too bad. You have your own bedrooms, you have a living room, and your own small, personal gym. Sure, you have to share it with a bunch of other people, but most college students have to do that, and if a bunch of overworked eighteen-year-olds can do that, how bad could it be, right? And it wasn’t like I minded the bathroom thing either. Using their own feces to grow plants is actually a super smart idea.

And then it was revealed that I could take a shower every two weeks. Two weeks. I can barely go 24 hours without a shower. I’m a person who takes her hygiene very seriously—probably because when I was younger, my mom gaslighted me into thinking that if I didn’t take a shower every day, I would get cancer. Well, now it’s drilled into me. And in a room crammed with five other people who take showers twice a month and probably work out every day? It’s probably going to stink.

And then it was the freeze-dried food. I remember once, I went to this space craft dedicated museum. They had freeze-dried food on sale because they wanted visitors to “go through the astronaut experience.” And after eating the freeze-dried food (I think it was cookies and cream ice cream), I gained a whole new level of respect for astronauts. My taste buds were screaming in pain for days afterwards. If there was an opposite to a chef’s kiss, freeze-dried cookies and cream ice cream was the epitome of it.

I had done my research beforehand about the taste of freeze-dried food, and the internet gave me a bunch of baloney about how it was supposed to maintain and imitate the taste of normal food.

Anyways, I’m now done with my rant. The human race can be curious all they want, but I’m good with watching Chinese drama shows in the comfort of my home with actually good ice cream and daily showers.

And to all the astronauts, respect and good luck out there!