It is not surprising, but it is dispiriting, to realize how little the general public knows (or cares?) about space exploration. We seem to take for granted, that America is the leader in human spaceflight. Will it always be so?

Remember high school history? Remember Portugal? They dominated the seas way back when, and thus, dominated the known world. Then what happened? Did they get lazy? Rest on their laurels? Sure, they still are the only ones who make port wine (at least any that's worth anything), but WTF, over? How about Rome? Ok, maybe they just got too decadent. I never did see the X-rated movie Caligula, but it probably wasn't too far off the mark. They got too full of themselves, and that was that.

So, what's it going to take to get America enthralled again about space exploration? This was one of the questions we considered, on the Review of US Human Spaceflight Plans Committee, also known as the Augustine Committee, after our chairman, respected aerospace veteran, Norm Augustine. What do we have to do? Do we have to go chase imaginary aliens to get your attention?

The media generally missed the mark on understanding our report. How is this possible? Maybe I'm too close to it. I suppose I shouldn't over-think this. I should give ‘em what they want. Alright then, here are the report highlights, from my perspective:

• The space program needs more money. NASA has been trying to do too much with too little for too long. Let's either spend more money, or scale back our expectations.

• The Space Shuttle has been a magnificent, beautiful flying machine, but it is more fragile than we thought, and it is too expensive to operate. There is a case to be made to keep flying the Shuttle for a few more years, but only if we are going to base the next heavy launch vehicle on its technology.

• The International Space Station has been a great success, in that an international framework for cooperation has evolved. This is the future, not only in space exploration. In addition, there have been relevant, significant scientific results from research conducted onboard. The US should use this framework, to move exploration forward beyond Low Earth Orbit (LEO).

• The Constellation Program was a reasonable path, five years ago, when the Vision for Space Exploration was first formulated. Since then, budget shortfalls have caused significant delays. Moreover, the goals evolved into a focus on getting astronauts back to the Moon, to the development of the Ares family of rockets and the Orion spacecraft. The public generally is bored with going back to the Moon, since we already did this forty years ago.

• Commercial crew access to LEO should be considered. Traditional aerospace companies can do this, and who knows? Maybe the startups can too, more efficiently. At any rate, the technology has existed for almost fifty years, it's time to give it a try.

• Heavy Lift Vehicle: Let's choose one, then, do it. Be it Ares-V, Ares-V Lite, Evolved Expendable Launch Vehicle, or Shuttle Derived. Pick one.

Clear as mud? For a more detailed (yet, still very high-level) explanation, check out my blog.

Leroy Chiao, Ph.D. served as a NASA astronaut from 1990-2005. During his 15-year career, he flew four missions into space, three times on Space Shuttles and once as the copilot of a Russian Soyuz spacecraft to the International Space Station. On that flight, he served as the commander of Expedition 10, a six and a half month mission. Dr. Chiao has performed six spacewalks, in both US and Russian spacesuits, and has logged nearly 230 days in space.

Dr. Chiao is Gizmodo's official astronaut (and "astroblogger"). On occasion, he still ponders strategies to hunt for imaginary aliens.

A Spam and peanut butter (chunky) sandwich: That was what I had for lunch, forty years ago, just before watching along with the rest of the world as Eagle touched down on the surface of the Moon.

It was a hot summer day in Danville, California. My family lived in a nice house, in a nice neighborhood. Nevertheless our home, like many built in that era, didn't have air conditioning. So, my father moved the family TV set (19" black and white, rabbit ear antennae) out onto the partially shaded back patio. He sprayed water onto the concrete, which helped make it surprisingly cooler.

My friends, two brothers Mike and Russ, were visiting. We had been friends for a long time (two years was long time to an eight year old). So, they had become accustomed to being served odd concoctions at my house, invented by my Dad. Spam and peanut butter sandwiches was one of those. It was surprisingly, not too bad. I had experimented once with a plain Spam sandwich. I quickly went back to including the chunky peanut butter.

I can remember like it was yesterday, watching that grainy black and white TV and listening in as Eagle approached the surface of the Moon and landed. Even as a young boy, I knew that the world had just changed. I also knew that I wanted to be like those guys on the Moon. I wanted to be an astronaut!

Twenty years later, I found myself in Houston, interviewing at NASA to be a member of the thirteenth astronaut group. What a heady time—President Bush (41) had just announced the Space Exploration Initiative (SEI), calling for a return to the Moon to stay, followed by a crewed mission to Mars. And, we had astronauts in key NASA management positions, including the Administrator himself.

SEI fell flat, soon after the President failed to win reelection. The $400 billion price tag quoted by NASA might also have had something to do with it. Fifteen years after the SEI announcement, I found myself standing with a small group of fellow astronauts at NASA Headquarters, as President Bush (43) announced the Vision for Space Exploration (VSE) in the wake of the Space Shuttle Columbia accident. The Vision called for, among other things, a crewed return to the Moon by 2020, and a crewed mission to Mars, on an indefinite schedule.

The Constellation program, which grew out of the VSE, was described by then-NASA Administrator Mike Griffin as "Apollo on Steroids." Indeed, it called for the creation of a capsule spacecraft (albeit, much larger). Five years into Constellation, the nation stands at a crossroads. The program has had its share of challenges and controversy and the budget is universally agreed to be inadequate. Newly inaugurated President Obama has ordered a review and a report, outlining a set of options for NASA and the agency's new Administrator. (I am a member of the Review of U.S. Human Space Flight Committee.)

Today, on the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon landing, our return to the Moon is tenuous, at best. Who, in 1969, could have imagined that we would not have regular travel to and from Moon bases by the 20th anniversary of Apollo 11? The announcement of the SEI in 1989 gave us hope that we would be back on the Moon to stay, within another twenty years. Those twenty years have now passed.

Tonight, I was an invited guest at the 40th Apollo anniversary celebration at the National Air and Space Museum. Everything was perfect: The Apollo 11 crew—Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins were elegant and stately against the backdrop of historic air and spacecraft. Other Apollo-era astronauts, like my friend Walt Cunningham, were also shining honorees. They were all a part of it!

It was a reminder of old times, of the past grandeur and wonder of the Apollo era. The time when we, as a nation, felt like nothing was impossible! A time, when Spam and peanut butter (chunky), tasted better than almost anything.

Should we look back at the last forty years and be disappointed? I believe that would be a mistake. Skylab was a resounding success. Despite the challenges, the Space Shuttle and ISS are marvelous flying machines. We started down the road of international cooperation with the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project, and led the formation and maturation of the current, highly successful international partnership. We have not had the big home run since Apollo, but we have made steady progress.

Where will the next twenty years take us? Against all odds, Spam is still going strong. Let's keep moving forward too.

Leroy Chiao, Ph.D. served as a NASA astronaut from 1990-2005. During his 15-year career, he flew four missions into space, three times on Space Shuttles and once as the copilot of a Russian Soyuz spacecraft to the International Space Station. On that flight, he served as the commander of Expedition 10, a six and a half month mission. Dr. Chiao has performed six spacewalks, in both US and Russian spacesuits, and has logged nearly 230 days in space.

Dr. Chiao is Gizmodo's official astronaut (and "astroblogger"). On occasion, he still eats Spam and peanut butter (chunky) sandwiches.

Clip art from Clip Art Guide

Has anyone had sex in space? To date, I can tell you emphatically, no. Why am I so sure? It's simple. Guys are guys. If a guy had sex in space, he would not be able to stand not bragging about it. Am I right, or am I right? Sorry to disappoint you, but there it is. We would all know about it. Or, I should say, we will all know about it when it happens.

So, what's the deal? Do we have blow up dolls or robots to take care of business? No, and not that we'd really want such a thing! Humans look a lot better.

Besides, would sex in space—bragging rights aside—really be so great? This week, I've given you a look at the difficulties of doing things in microgravity, and the potential for making some pretty disgusting messes. So, apply all you've learned, and honestly assess whether or not sex would be better up there. You'd have to anchor yourselves, somehow (in all six degrees of freedom), otherwise it would be more than the headboard you might bang up against. And, some objects, while not sharp (we are careful about that), might really hurt to run into during a moment of passion!

So what do we have? What do you think? There is a rule that even alcohol (for drinking) is not allowed onboard, because NASA is worried about bad PR. Can you imagine NASA wanting to address the issue of sex? Ha!

What about the future, as we fly longer and farther into space? That's easy. Crews are already mixed, and crews will become larger. As this happens, there will be a gradual transition from crew to colony (for example, a permanent moon base). Just like in your office now, romances will sprout (which the participants will think are secret) and things will take their natural course.

And, people back on Earth (the guy's friends) will hear about it, almost immediately after it happens. The news will quickly spread from there. And then, you'll know.

People are people, even in space!

Check out astronaut Leroy Chiao's previous illuminating, insightful columns, a centerpiece to our weeklong celebration of human life in space, "Get Me Off This Rock". If you love Leroy as much as we do, you can book him to speak at your business or school, by reaching him at the Leading Authorities Speakers Bureau.

In the early days, there were no restroom facilities onboard spacecraft. The first flights were only supposed to last minutes, so it was thought that there was no need. The story of Allen Shepard having to relieve himself in his suit became common knowledge, after the event was dramatized in the movie, "The Right Stuff." Later spacecraft, including the Apollo spacecraft, also had no toilet facilities. The crews of these vehicles used modified piddle packs (used by the military), which utilized a condom, attached to a hose and bag, for collecting urine. What about women? Back in those days, there weren't any in the space programs (except for Valentina Tereshkova, who probably used a diaper), so it wasn't an issue.

For collection of number two, modified sealable bags were used. There was no privacy aboard the Gemini and Apollo capsules, so imagine doing all of this in close quarters with your buddies! To make matters worse, these bags were (are) clear. They are still carried aboard US spacecraft, for use in the event of irreparable toilet failure.

Fortunately, things got a lot more civilized in the Shuttle program. As I mentioned before, the Shuttle is a business class affair. It contains a relatively large toilet area, which features a privacy screen.

The Soyuz capsule also has a toilet in the upper living module. When someone has to use it for number two, the other two crewmembers can retreat to the descent module, to give the third guy a little privacy. Usually, that toilet is not used for that purpose, though. Crews go through a preflight enema, which usually is enough to clean you out for the two days of flight it takes for the Soyuz to phase, rendezvous and dock with a space station.

The toilet aboard the International Space Station (ISS) is the same as the one that flew on the MIR station. This is also a civilized affair, in a relatively large area, with a privacy screen.

So, how do these toilets work? They all basically work the same way. In the absence of gravity to help you, airflow is used to try to collect everything and point it in the proper direction. To urinate, it is pretty simple. Use the long hose, which has a funnel attached to the end. Turn on the system, and make sure there is good airflow before relieving yourself. Make sure not to actually contact the funnel with your valuable parts; it's a disgusting thought first of all, and second of all, you wouldn't be able to shut the system down before you really regretted getting the life sucked out of you, so to speak! By the way, this system works for women too. The suction is adequate to make sure that the liquids go to the right place.

For number two, the seat lifts up, revealing a small hole. You've really got to get to know yourself, and get good at lining things up for this operation! The system again uses airflow to collect and hold things down where they're supposed to go. After you're finished, the bag is tied off and pushed down into the replaceable silver can.

Accidents do happen, and by international agreement, you clean up your own mess!

Is it worth it? One of my crewmates on Space Shuttle once told me that he wished that we could land every morning, so that he could take care of business there, before launching back into orbit. Yeah, it's not pleasant, but you get used to the hassle of doing these hygiene tasks. It's not so bad.

Follow astronaut Leroy Chiao in his guest column, as we celebrate human life in space with our "Get Me Off This Rock" week.

OK, so someone wanted to know what the International Space Station smells like. After we opened the hatch, I noticed a moderate smell of plastics, not unlike that new car smell. That's from the various synthetic materials onboard, outgassing. It's not too bad, and after an hour, I stopped noticing it.

We do scrub the atmosphere, though. We have carbon dioxide removal systems, as well as a micro-impurities removal device. Oxygen is added of course, as it is consumed. We use an electrolysis device to crack water, dumping the hydrogen overboard. (See gallery for all the air-processing machinery described here.)

That device is a bit cantankerous, so we also have oxygen candles, which we "burn" periodically. These are the same kinds of systems that are onboard nuclear submarines, which face similar technical requirements.

One interesting fact is that nitrogen is not replaced, except to compensate for leakage. The human body does not really utilize the inhaled nitrogen, so it is recycled.

What else? What is the temperature onboard? The temperature was set by the mission commander—me. I live in Houston, so I like air conditioning. The cabin was set to about 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

Follow astronaut Leroy Chiao in his guest column, as we celebrate human life in space with our "Get Me Off This Rock" week. You can check out tons of great shots from Leroy's ISS mission in his NASA gallery.

Yesterday, I wrote about what launching aboard a Space Shuttle is like. This time, let's consider the Russian Soyuz rocket and spacecraft. Why? Isn't a rocket a rocket? Is it really that different? Yes and no, no and yes. They both get astronauts into space in around nine minutes. But, they are very different.

First, consider the two spacecraft. They look pretty different from each other. One is a part of a missile, the other a winged vehicle, attached to a rocket assembly.

If the living space inside of the Space Shuttle is Business Class...

...then the Soyuz is decidedly economy.

However, I must say that the Soyuz has a very special place in my heart. It is a robust, capable spacecraft and launcher. It has the best-demonstrated safety record of any manned spacecraft. And, it just feels hearty.

So, what is it like to launch on a Soyuz?

Well first, you almost wear the Soyuz rather than strap into it. Squeezing down the hatchway into my seat, I got an idea of what claustrophobia must feel like. If anyone is the least bit claustrophobic, this would bring it out. Your legs are bent up into your chest. It's not very comfortable. Like with the Shuttle, you strap in about two and a half hours before launch. But, it gets worse. The Soyuz requires two orbits to get enough telemetry to the ground, for the Mission Control Center to verify that the spacecraft is healthy. During that time, you must remain strapped into your seat, in case you have to perform an emergency deorbit. Total time in that position? About six hours.

So there's no dozing off in the Soyuz. You're too uncomfortable. You wait. And follow along in the checklist, of course. T-Zero is totally different—there is no kick, since there are no solid rocket strap-on boosters. The liquid engines are very smooth. The thrust builds up gently until the rocket simply rises off of the pad. You have to go by your watch, and the announcement from the launch control bunker, to know that you are flying!

There is a deceleration just prior to staging, and then a muffled "Bang!" as the four liquid strap-on boosters separate. Same for the third stage. What surprised me (startled the hell out of me, actually), was the very loud "BANG!!" followed by an instant flash of bright light. Just for a split second, I thought we were exploding, but it was just the shroud and escape tower separation! I could now see through the porthole, and look down at the familiar view of the Earth, and the bright, fluorescent blue line of the atmosphere on the Earth limb.

You know the rest.

Follow astronaut Leroy Chiao in his guest column, as we celebrate human life in space with our "Get Me Off This Rock" week. Crazy Soyuz rocket engines shot up top from Wikipedia.

Today, I was going to write about how to do something else in space. But, I changed my mind. Let's back up to the beginning of a mission. What's it like to go through a launch? How does it feel? Are you able to sleep the night before? Do you get scared? What do you eat before?

Steak and eggs. Medium rare and over easy. This is what the first astronauts ate before launch and why not? I remember during one of my launch counts, the ladies were taking our pre-launch breakfast orders, going around the table. I was hearing things like, dry toast. A little yogurt. Cereal. You gotta be kidding me, what kind of pantywaists am I flying with? They got to me and I replied firmly and evenly, "Steak and eggs, medium rare and over easy." Everyone looked at me funny. I stated the obvious. "Hey, we might go out tomorrow and get blown up. I'm going to have steak and eggs!" Immediately, three guys changed their orders to steak and eggs. I was doing all of us a favor, really. You need a hearty breakfast before launch, you're going to be really busy. Yogurt? Come on.

Sleep wasn't really a problem either, although I tended to wake up a few times at night in anticipation, just like when I have other important morning appointments. We usually wake up about four hours before launch, and hit the ground running.

After breakfast and cleanup, it's time to get suited up. Walk down the hall and meet up with the suit technicians. Seasoned professionals, your suit tech has been with you all through training. He or she makes sure that everything is just right, and after the pressure checks are complete, sends you on your way.

From that point, it's a bit of a blur, as you walk out of the Operations and Checkout Building at the Kennedy Space Center, to the applause of the employees who have gathered at the entrance. You climb onto the Astrovan, which is a converted Airstream RV from the Apollo days. Crews typically joke and banter a bit, the atmosphere is lighthearted, during the short drive to the launch pad. Everyone falls silent as the bird comes into view. She is beautiful. She is ready, as are we.

At the pad, we climb out and ride the elevator to the 195-foot level, where we are greeted by the ingress crew. Time for one more quick pee. Maybe for good luck, but more, so that I won't have to use the adult diaper that I'm wearing! After all, we strap into the Space Shuttle about two and a half hours before launch.

Is this when the jitters hit? Actually, no. This is kind of a time to relax a bit. The environment is totally familiar, thanks to the hours upon hours spent in the simulators. For once, nobody is talking to you. Nobody is asking you for something. It's not unusual to doze off.

As the launch count proceeds, there is a point at which things get serious. Certainly as we come out of the T-20 minute hold. After we come out of the T-9 minute hold, the cockpit is sterile. No unnecessary chatter on the intercom. Is this when it becomes real? Not just yet. For me, it is not until the T-90 second point, when the Launch Director says something like, "Columbia, close and lock your visors, initiate O2 flow, have a good flight." Then it very suddenly becomes very real.

What did I feel at T-Zero? The answer might surprise you. I felt relief.

Certainly, I was keyed up. After all, we were sitting on top of a bomb, being accelerated to orbital velocity of 17,500 mph in less than nine minutes. Pretty heady stuff! But the thing of which astronauts are most afraid is not getting the chance to launch into space. What if I get hit by a car? What if the doctors find something wrong with me at the last minute? What happens if…? All of those worries go away the instant the boosters light!

First stage on the Space Shuttle is shaky. You can't really read the instruments and screens very well. At T-Zero it feels like someone kicks the back of your seat really hard, the Shuttle seems to leap off of the pad. You hear the wind noise build into a high-pitched whine. You see the blue sky start to get dark, fairly quickly. You don't so much hear the rumble of the engines as feel them. Everything is oddly orderly, even quiet. That's because we are accustomed to the simulators, when all the warning and emergency lights and klaxons are going off, as we deal with the failure scenario presented to us by the training team. On launch day, pretty much everything usually works!

On my first flight, I was up on the flight deck for launch. I had a small mirror, through which I could look out of the overhead windows, which were pointed more or less towards the Earth. (The Shuttle rolls into launch azimuth and heels over as the ascent proceeds.) I saw the ground rushing away, through the flames of the engines.

After about two minutes, the solid rocket boosters (SRBs) tail off as the last bits of fuel in them are consumed. You feel the deceleration, and then see the flash of bright light as the separation motors fire, peeling them away from the stack. It is suddenly very smooth and quiet. My heart leapt into my throat when this happened to me the first time. My first thought was that the main engines had also stopped and we were about to go down! But, that was not the case, I just hadn't expected second stage to be so smooth.

During the last few minutes of launch, the vehicle accelerates to orbital velocity. You are under three Gs of loading, so it feels like a small gorilla is sitting on your chest. It takes a little effort to breath, but it's OK.

Suddenly, right on cue (you're always watching the clock), the main engines cut off, and you are instantly weightless! As I looked out the windows and for the first time beheld the awesome beauty of the Earth from space, I was almost overcome with emotion. I had made it, I had realized my childhood dream. I allowed myself to revel in this moment for just a few seconds. Yes, I was in space, but it was also time to get to work!

Maybe next, I'll tell you about the Soyuz.

Follow Leroy Chiao in his guest column, as we celebrate human life in space with our "Get Me Off This Rock" week.

On a Space Shuttle, music is piped up from the Mission Control Center to wake you up. On the Space Station, you set your watch alarm. Or, as is sometimes the case on Earth, you awaken early, all on your own, wondering "What the H...?!"

A typical day in space (is there such a thing?) starts a lot like a day on the ground, except that you are floating. Turn off the alarm. Unzip yourself out of your sleeping bag. Open the doors to the sleep station, haul yourself out.

On the International Space Station, I fell into a routine of cleaning up in the evening before bed, and then wearing a clean T-shirt and underwear for sleep. In the morning, I was already half dressed. I would pull on a pair of Nomex shorts and white cotton gym socks, ready to get going. This was the typical uniform onboard, except for when the cameras were going to be on.

When we had a scheduled video interview, we would wear a polo-type crew shirt or, in the case of a serious event, don a flight suit.

What's the first thing you do in the morning on Earth? Well, it's not so different onboard a spacecraft. I will dedicate another entry to the issue of space toilets and leave it alone for now.

How about brushing your teeth? In zero gravity (or more accurately, microgravity, if you're a stickler for such things), some things are easier, like moving medium or large mass items around, but many things are more difficult. It is unbelievably easy to lose things. Get distracted for a moment, and that toothpaste cap is gone! Even if you are good about anchoring such things behind a rubber bungee, some rookie going by could knock it loose.

So, how do you brush your teeth in space? Long ago, NASA started buying only toothpaste without detachable caps, thus solving the lost cap problem. So, start by filling a drink bag with water and bring it with you to the hygiene area. Tuck it behind a rubber bungee. Remove your hygiene kit from behind its bungee and unzip it. Find your toothbrush inside of your hygiene kit, safely tucked away inside of a fabric pouch with a Velcro top. But first, take out your toothpaste tube, and stick it to the wall, using the Velcro dot on it. Secure your hygiene kit behind a rubber bungee, after partially zipping it up, so that things don't accidentally float out.

Still have your toothbrush between a couple of your fingers? Hopefully yes. Remove your drink bag, and with one thumb, flip open the straw clamp (which keeps liquid from seeping out of the bag), and gently squeeze out a bead of water onto your toothbrush, watch it get sucked into the bristles. Hold the straw of the drink bag in your teeth, and with one hand, fix the straw clamp in place, and replace the bag behind the bungee.

Almost all of the rest is fairly straightforward. Flip open the cap of the toothpaste tube, squeeze some out on your toothbrush, go to work on your teeth. Ok, you're done. Now what? Where are you going to spit? There's no sink. So—into a tissue? Then you've got a wet tissue, and what are you going to do with that?? So, I swallowed. Filled my mouth with water and swallowed again. Drew some water onto the toothbrush and sucked the water out. Dried the toothbrush onto a towel and replaced it, and the toothpaste, into the kit.

What's left? Any idea? Yep, the drink bag. That, I would bring to bed with me, so that I would have something to sip on in the middle of the night, should I wake. Just like back home on Earth, except a bit more complicated. And, brushing your teeth is one of the simpler tasks that you'll perform in space.

Follow Leroy Chiao in his guest column, as we celebrate human life in space with our "Get Me Off This Rock" week.

Living in space is all at once wonderful, and a royal pain. During my first mission aboard Space Shuttle Columbia, I marveled at the sensation of freedom that came right after Main Engine Cut Off (MECO). I watched as tethered checklists floated gently back and forth, and it quickly became normal to release a camera lens in midair, as I removed the old one off of the camera to be replaced.

There was also a sense of dizziness, since the inner ear balance system wasn't working so well. My head felt a little full, as if I were laying down on an incline, since there was no longer any gravity to pull fluids down to my extremities. In fact, the human body carries about two liters less water in space, than on the Earth.

But, it was amazing how quickly it became normal, just to fly head first down a hatchway, or to spin myself with a push off using just a few fingers. With a little practice, most astronauts get pretty graceful at flying through the spacecraft. Just don't try it at home, back in gravity!

Large masses are easily moved around slowly, and it becomes second nature to orient yourself using only your vision.

However, what about all that other stuff?

Imagine how easy it is to lose something! Where did that pen go? Where is my thumb drive? Where is that photograph of my family? First place to check is the air filters. But there are plenty of dead zones of air inside, and things can be lost for a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, months or forever. If it's critical, you had better keep it inside of a sealed bag, safely contained inside of a second larger mesh bag, tied off to a handrail.

What about eating in space? Hygiene? What is the coolest thing about being in space? What is the most difficult? Stay tuned, I'll be writing about all of it.

Follow Leroy Chiao in his guest column, as we celebrate human life in space with our "Get Me Off This Rock" week.

Like most kids in 1969, Leroy sat enthralled in his Danville, California living room in front of a black-and-white television, watching Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. He was eight years old, the perfect age to decide that he would one day be an astronaut.

So how did it actually happen? Well, Chiao's high-level degrees in chemical engineering, experience developing advanced aerospace materials, job at the Lawrence Livermore laboratory in California, and over 2500 hours as an instrument-rated pilot certainly made for a convincing astronaut CV. But in the end, it all comes down to a standard application for federal employment, which Chiao got a hold of in 1989. It's the same one used by every federal employee, from the IRS on up.

On the blank line for "Job Applying For," he wrote "Astronaut."

And 7 months later in the summer of 1990, he was accepted with 22 others into the 13th class of US astronauts. After training, two years later he was assigned to STS-65 on the shuttle Columbia, which took off in July of 1994. Since then, Chiao flew on two more shuttle missions (STS-72 and STS-92) and commanded Expedition 10 on the International Space Station, spending more than half a year in orbit.

So what does being one of just a few dozen people who have spent such a long time in space feel like? What does it to do your life? That's what we aim to find out.

"There are only around 400 people worldwide [who have been in space], and even fewer for long durations," Chiao told me. "Six and a half months is a lot of time to reflect, think about life and what's important. The best thing you can do is just look at the Earth—it's beautiful, and every part is different, beautiful in its own way, and yet the same. It's pretty profound, as you would imagine. It gives you a much bigger view on life—small things that used to bother me seem so insignificant."

But in addition to attempting to articulate the massive hugeness of all that, Leroy's going to be blogging mostly about the small stuff—the daily tasks like brushing your teeth, taking a leak, and yes, reporting to work in the cold vacuum of space.

"You can't simulate life in microgravity," he says, "so when you get up there, the first interesting thing is seeing what life is like, familiarizing yourself with things like cutting your fingernails, brushing your teeth. How do you do that?"

Those are the questions Chiao's going to be answering this week, helping us lowly earth-anchored souls attempt to wrap our gravity-addled brains around what life must be like in space. I can't wait.

Stay tuned for Gizmodo's Astroblogger column with Leroy Chiao