Dear co-pilot,

I have never likes planes. I never understood why people take such pride in being the
quickest to get to a set destination. I guess the invention of planes assumed that saving
time to rush into open doors was better than wasting time to open locked ones.
I like to get lost in the maze. You can mock me as crazy for having the naivet to avoid
short cuts. Or, you may admire me as brave for having the courage to explore all the
possibilities. Either way, dont get me wrong. I still appreciate the warm feeling of
success when winning a debate round or the satisfaction that accompanies defeating the
chaotic entropy of a Rubiks cube. My dreams, however, are never limited to the
fulfillment and delight that accompanies success.
Even if I master the esoteric medical jargon in my pre-med courses, you will watch me
wrestle with economics. Even when I speak 3 languages fluently, you will have to
tolerate my horrible accent attempting to speak a fourth one. And, even if my heart
could perfectly argue the negation of This house should bomb Iran, you will watch me
challenge myself to the affirmation. For me, it has never been about how many doors I
can open, or how many successes I can achieve. It is all about having the courage to
approach mysterious doors, even though they may never open to anticipated
destinations. Just warning you, my closet door is not one for you to try.
We may get lost together in downtown San Francisco, refusing to eat at the Chipotle
next door. We may stay up long nights trying to make sense of non-sense. And, we may
sacrifice many comfortable destinations in the hope of making a difference, but at least
we try. For the first time, I invite you to board a plane with me. We wont fly to a dream
job or success, but instead to a place where we can be the change. Stanford is the only
airport that lets us do that, and we were chosen to be the pilots.
I will be fixing the plane engine till then,
Negin