Stars
Every night, I gaze up at the stars on my ceiling to admire the same view I’ve had for seventeen years. Besides being the catalyst to long-winded explanations as to why I still have glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, their light has continued to define me by illuminating every surface, corner, and object in my room.
As I begin to think about moving on to the next chapter in my life, I ask myself: Which of these objects will I take with me to college?
Under the most condensed set of stars, my laptop acts as the hub for everything I know and everything I want to get to know. It’s definitely coming with me. With it, I’ve dedicated weekends to teaching myself to build websites and edit videos, and now where I design sleek sites and edit ads that reach millions worldwide. Here, I transform plans into action, like launching a product, investing in an IPO, integrating an SSL certificate to a site, or solving tonight’s Electric Field problem set.
In between my two windows, my whiteboard materializes my thoughts into strategies and dictates the goals for my day, week, month, and year. I personalize it by color-coordinating categories of school, work, and–my favorite–a spot reserved for my little sister, Natalie, to leave me artistic messages. The funny thing is, despite my board containing lists of tasks, I can’t stand seeing a blank whiteboard because an empty and colorless board is an empty and colorless mind. It’s too big (and too old) to come with me, but I’ll buy a new one first thing.
Kept on my desk is a stack of business cards. I need to print some with my new logo, but I’ll take a few in the meantime. Curious and eager to learn from the best, I decided to attend my first networking event at fourteen. I commonly heard chuckles and a “Hey, buddy. What brings you here?” Originally hesitant to answer, I gradually learned to embrace their questions and, slowly, I strengthened my confidence to spark conversations. A few inches taller and a couple of chest hairs later, now they pass me their business cards and don’t suspect a thing–until they ask where I go to college.
A small animals-on-a-boat themed lamp lights a corner of my room and my heart. Underneath this lamp, my little sister and I share smiles, laughs, and a growing drive for entrepreneurship. Eight years apart, we’ve found a connection by hosting pretend-restaurant experiences with handwritten menus, live music, and a chef that always seems to divert from the recipe (I’ll learn one day). Over the years, it’s reminded me that maturing is empty without a little fun, laughter, and a sense of how far I’ve come, but I’ll leave this lamp behind for Natalie.
A little of what’s left from Syria: my mom’s mosaic mirror, handmade with mother-of-pearl and rosewood, sits by my dad’s Colombian bull sculpture. I’ll take these two with me as reflective sources of inspiration, family, and identity. “Colombia teaches you to have hunger, and Syria teaches you to be grateful.” After leaving their homes in Colombia and Syria, my parents married these two perspectives with entrepreneurship and inspired me to be appreciative while actively seeking growth and improvement in life.
While I’ve been unwilling to remove the stars over the years, when I move on from my room, I’ll leave them behind. What I will take with me is the constellation of intangible moments, memories, and experiences that have shaped my goals for the future: analyzing challenging markets on the Lawn, founding a sustainable incubator-accelerator hybrid, and creating inclusive spaces where underprivileged entrepreneurs can launch their own businesses. Despite being physically left behind, their influence will continue to accompany and push me towards the new connections I will create, the ideas I will invent, and the opportunities I will open.