[breakingnews]

I went to private schools for most of my educatin', so there really wasn't much physical bullying going on. (I did get into a fight once, but with someone from my Boy Scout troop.)

It was, however, a different kind of torment: one of socioeconomic status and race. My NJ hometown is mostly WASPs and Jews. They all live the high-brow country club lifestyle and seem to thrive on local connections and strength in numbers. I remember my classmates being really good at making me and the expanding group of minorities (mostly east asian) not feel a part of things. Very very few bridged the gap; there always seemed to be a line between normal and foreign, which, of course, was an emotionally disturbing experience.

When I was 15, my parents moved back to Taiwan and I agreed to go to boarding school, which was even more "white" and privileged. But without my parents around, I kind of forgot who I was. I wanted nothing more than to be one of the "cool" kids, strutting proudly across campus to a chorus of greetings and taking part in the boisterous, sarcastic banter of impromptu gatherings. I wasted a lot of energy on people who weren't really my friends, spent far too many nights drinking or smoking pot and letting my schoolwork and personal interests fall to the wayside. My efforts were so textbook: picking on my own "nerdy" Asian friends, throwing parties and always going out of my way to procure booze or dope, even letting myself get in a little bit of trouble so I might show that bit of daring edge all the white kids had.

Yet I never quite made it. Just when I'd catch a glimpse of hope and hasten my pace up that social ladder, I'd slam into the glass ceiling. It was really discouraging, and I was too young and naive to know any better. Those guys, the ones who were banging every chick on campus and always got their way because the school would never fuck with losing their parents' donations, they weren't deliberately teasing me, but they were. In short, I had a poor high school experience. I healed some in college, but only now realized what I learned in those four years.

Anyway, at our five-year high school reunion two years ago, to more severe of a degree than I had expected, most of those cool kids had gone nowhere with their lives. Fresh out of Ivy League institutions but unable to forge connections on their own. And those who were doing okay, it was clearly their family ties. I'll list some last names: Hearst, Griswold, Packard. Meanwhile, I proudly said I had moved to NYC on my own (i.e. without mom and dad ponying up for a $1800-per-month midtown studio) and had a high-profile assignment at the world's largest newswire. And just a year out of college. It was quite a relief. I spent 15 minutes chatting at happy hour, and then decided I wanted nothing more to do with these people. I waited for my friends, the ones who weren't staggering to and fro and could still drive themselves home, to finish their rounds, and we went bowling and had a late-night snack at Denny's. What the losers did in high school. But it couldn't have been more triumphant.