Posted by Wilfred Wan

Most people regard their college years with some degree of fondness, holding onto them with unique reverence. They’re the formative years of adulthood, after all. In the abstract, the same basic platitude applied to my experience. Those four years definitively shaped me. But that’s in the abstract.

My choice of university boiled down to its respectable showing in the US News and World Report rankings. The process – if it can be called such – was marked by a combination of apathy and misguided values (both mine and my parents, who had recently divorced). There was no campus tours, no sit-down discussions, no consideration of what the best fit for me as an individual. The school in question was, by statistical measure, the best one I could get into, and therefore, it was the one that I would go to. Ultimately, its selection was largely irrelevant. I doubt I would have had a different experience anywhere else. If anything, its location close to home turned into a saving grace.

I suppose I was a little excited about going to college, though I was never quite champing at the bit. My high school years were hardly glorious, but despite my general nerdiness and inability to attract the opposite sex, I was a genuinely happy kid. I had a car, no real curfew, and a close-knit circle of friends (or so my teenage self foolishly believed). Senior year was altogether inconsequential. And thus, it was fun. Sure, at times, I did buy into the idea of college. I had seen too many movies not to have thought about it. I could figure out what I’d do with my life, what I would want to do with my life. Maybe even get laid in the process.

The problem was me, mostly. I’ve never had the capacity to fake being sociable, and college requires that from the outset (the fake or real kinds). To some degree, you have to be enthusiastic about people and places and things – all nouns, really. About being there. You can call it open-mindedness, faux sincerity, or whatever. College was where people methodically knocked on every door to introduce themselves to one another. It was where kids literally called attention to themselves before sitting down to the lobby piano. I wasn’t ready. It all seemed so contrived, so lord of the flies*. I didn’t question the sincerity of people’s intentions, but I was turned off by the means.

*College was also where my dorm mate wondered aloud if playing a guitar indiscriminately would attract female attention, then watching as it came to fruition. Full disclosure: I brought my own guitar to the dorm with thoughts of learning to play. It left my closet once. Eventually, I sold it. A real microcosm.

My dormmates were friendly but astonishingly inconsiderate and obnoxious, even for dormmates. In our cell of a three-person dorm room, they managed to have guests over everyday. Conveniently, their friends lived just down the hall, allowing them to stay in our room into all hours of the night. One had his girlfriend, who did not go to our school, living with us around four days a week. It was impossible not to feel claustrophobic. They did the normal things dormmates did as well, blasting their music, taking my things from the mini-fridge, and so forth. The fact that they thrived in the environment while making my living situation miserable, appeared to me as no small injustice.

My time in classes was slightly more tenable, though not always. People I had no relationship with inquired about my grades, presumably to brag about their achievements, or to feel better about themselves. I remember distinctly asking a question once about proper citation formats, and being mocked by a couple of kids loud enough for me to hear; their basic accusation was that I was taking things too seriously. It was as though I had traveled back in time to a fictional version of high school, with cliques and cool kids and all the bullshit I had managed to avoid the last four years, or at least turned an ignorant eye to.

I soon felt marginalized, much of it – not all – having to do with the living situation. I retreated, becoming a loner in all aspects of my collegiate life. It happened quickly. Following an initial period of awkward meals with the dormmates, I began going down to the cafeteria by myself – that is, when I wasn’t using my meal plan to get a to-go lunch and dinner. I went straight to class and back, deviating only to visit the campus arcade or linger at the library. I didn’t attend a single party, sporting event, or anything else the first year, a remarkable accomplishment considering the freshman environment. I’ve always been solitary to some degree though, so it didn’t feel unnatural. That was my excuse.

I was never hostile to my dormmates, who seemed blissfully unaware, both to my despondence and to their contribution to it. One of their friends rhetorically wondered aloud once whether I was bothered by their sitting on my bed every day hours on end, jokingly mentioning they were breaking wind constantly: a fitting mix of obliviousness and disregard. I took to returning home every weekend. My mom worked a few miles east, and I imagine her own emotional fragility led her to enable my unhealthy isolation. I was a dorm commuter. I hung out exclusively with high school friends at home, though the growing infrequency of those outings provided another source of consternation.

I took out my frustrations on my pillow every once in a while, likely confirming my dormmates’ suspicions that I was a budding serial killer. I remember so little about that first year, not in the hazy way that memories go, but in a less innocuous manner, as though I had drifted through it. Weirdly, I still felt disappointed when they openly discussed their plans to room together the next year. It bothered me greatly that each thought of the other as a desirable roommate, a desirable friend. I basically wanted to be right about being unhappy, and it killed me that I was being both aggrieved and ignored. In retrospect, I just had nothing else to hold onto. The fact that I was excluded only reaffirmed my failure.

The lost year set a tone. I took a job at an outdoor cafeteria the following year, but it was an alternative to a healthy social network, rather than a manifestation thereof. I didn’t complain when I regularly got assigned the 6 am shift; I almost failed a class because I fell asleep literally every lecture, I was so tired. Work came to be another means of avoidance. I was jaded, my perspective skewed. I didn’t see my future roommates as potential friends, despite immensely improved living situations*. I overlooked the female co-worker who seemed receptive enough to my presence. The classmate who offered me his number so we could hang out. I didn’t allow any of those to register as real possibilities.

*With one giant exception – another story for another time. My second year dormmate and I did attempt to attend a movie screening once, but in another representative moment, it was sold out. He was a little crazy too. Once, when he thought I was out of the room (and not under the covers), he berated himself incoherently. Faking that I ‘woke up’ oblivious to his outburst was one of the more awkward moments of my life. …Then again, I was punching pillows.

College destroyed my sense of belonging, uprooted my self-ease. Rather than seeking comfort in familiar circles, I began to challenge those as well. I recognized the shallow nature of my high school associations. People I had next to nothing in common with, who had qualities I didn’t respect, who seemed to be friends only because we were quasi-friends with the same people. Plus, unfair though it may be, they didn’t recognize my unhappiness. The fact that I felt (and not unfairly) that I was a better friend to them hastened the demise of many of those relationships*. With the benefit of selective hindsight, I was engaging in healthy introspection, forging more meaningful friendships. At the time, it didn’t feel that way.

*People use the phrase “falling out of touch,” but it’s bullshit. We should take personal responsibility for conscious decisions (or indecision) and shitty behavior.

Over those four years, I managed to find outlets for my frustrations, none particularly successful, most unhealthy. I walked into town frequently by myself for matinees.* I blogged, not about anything of consequence. I pulled my hair out compulsively, aiding father time. I chatted online with strangers, ironically listening to their problems. Responding allowed me to cope with my own helplessness, I guess, and connect in a way I couldn’t in my own environment. But most on the other end were teens, and I came to recognize the creepiness. I played online poker, and moved onto online casinos. But that ended when I lost a couple thousand dollars (most of a financial aid disbursement) in a three day span.

*Okay, that’s harmless, and I still do that.

Mostly, I repressed it all. I went home just about every weekend. I attended class, did decently, and got my degree. Clearly, my problems were nothing compared to the real issues people encounter in college, let alone the real world. Stripped of any perspective beside my own, however, my college experience was a genuine nightmare. I was constantly depressed. I felt completely alienated, but at the same time, stuck in this world I wanted no part of. Those four years of my life are surreal. I didn’t partake in a single social event, didn’t make a single friend. I feel no attachment to the school, no sense of loyalty or pride or belonging, and definitely not nostalgia. I was barely there.

But college did shape the person I’ve become. I put up with a lot of shit that first year, and compounded the issue by mentally withdrawing. But it was in that environment, in that misery, that I came to recognize what I held as important. It was under those circumstances that I shaped a standard for behavior and people that I still retain. Most of the decisions I made then were detrimental to my well-being. But I grew up as a result. Thing is, if I were placed in that same position today, I wouldn’t come close to withstanding all of that again. I’d like to think that it’s not that I’m too weak for a second go-around. It’s the contrary: I’ve become a stronger person, a better and more assured one.

11:30 AM. April 14, 2012. Location: Stanford GSB. I confidently walk into the room, empowered by a slick, black suit, white shirt, and maroon tie. Four others dressed in formal attire follow closely behind. The contents of the room? About 10 current members of Alpha Kappa Psi, Stanford’s professional business fraternity. This was the concluding event of my rush experience with AKPsi. This was the group interview.

Ever since my first visit to Stanford, guided by a high school friend, I wanted to get involved with any type of business organization. I also wanted a close knit group of friends, and although I have quite the tight group within my dorm, AKPsi provides a completely different aspect of friendship. However, it is a rather intensive process, and the hardest part is yet to come.

Rush consisted of five days of two-hour meet ups with all the AKPsi members. Throughout the process I have met members going into investment banking, finance, start-up work, and pretty much any type of business you can think of. But the more impressive part is the amount of members that have or are going to work for the big firms such as J.P. Morgan or Morgan Stanley. It’s been an intense, yet amazing experience. The interviews were today and hopefully we find out tomorrow morning via rollout (a Stanford tradition where new members are kidnapped in the morning and taken out to breakfast). Also, hopefully, myself and two of my other dorm buddies make it. If one gets in, it’s cool. If all three of us get in, even better. But if only one of us doesn’t get in, then, well, it would just suck. But that’s all for now. Whatever happens happens, and all I can do is hope and pray.

AKPsi, now it’s your move.

At the end of the day, Juli spent hours getting ready for the party while Meg started studying. Juli tried to get Meg to go, but she was insistent that she would study and pass the test. The girls were rather close and Juli didn’t like leaving Meg alone to be bored while she was out having a blast. Juli finally gave up, using the excuse that she would cram in homeroom the next day.

Juli went to the party and had the time of her life with her date. She headed back to the dorm around 2 a.m. and decided not to wake Meg. She went to bed nervous about the midterm and decided she would wake up early to ask Meg for help.

She woke up and went to wake Meg. Meg was lying on her stomach, apparently sound asleep. Juli rolled Meg over to reveal Meg’s terrified face. Juli, concerned, turned on the desk lamp. Meg’s study stuff was still open and had blood all over it. Meg had been slaughtered. Juli, in horror, fell to the floor and looked up to see, written on the wall in Meg’s blood: “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the lights!”

As told by Jon Little…

I heard about a girl who went back to her dorm room late one night to get her books before heading to her boyfriend’s room for the night. She entered but did not turn on the light, knowing that her roommate was sleeping. She stumbled around the room in the dark for several minutes, gathering books, clothes, toothbrush, etc. before finally leaving.

The next day, she came back to her room to find it surrounded by police. They asked if she lived there and she said yes. They took her into her room, and there, written in blood on the wall, were the words, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” Her roommate was being murdered while she was getting her things.

Okay. Pumunta kami sa SM San Lazaro nila Eunice at Maricar. Bibili si Eunice ng phone! At ang nabili niya ay ang My phone q19i . Kumain din kami sa PaoTsin. Bumili ng Kettlekorn at umuwi na din. Kaso wala pang one week old ‘yung phone niya nawala na. Ninakaw. Ako pa naman nagchoose nun at nagayos ng gprs activation para sa sun free internet. Sobra akong nalungkot. Share lang.

*Taken from Yahoo News.

PISCATAWAY, N.J. – The shocking suicide of a college student whose sex life was broadcast over the Web illustrates yet again the Internet’s alarming potential as a means of tormenting others and raises questions whether young people in the age of Twitter and Facebook can even distinguish public from private.

Cruel gossip and vengeful acts once confined to the schoolyard or the dorm can now make their way around the world instantly via the Internet, along with photos and live video.

“It’s just a matter of when the next suicide’s going to hit, when the next attack’s going to hit,” said Parry Aftab, a New Jersey lawyer who runs the website WiredSafety.

Last week, Tyler Clementi, a shy, 18-year-old Rutgers University freshman and gifted violist, jumped to his death from the George Washington Bridge after his roommate and another classmate allegedly used a webcam to secretly broadcast his dorm-room sexual encounters with another man. The two classmates have been charged with invasion of privacy, with the most serious charges carrying up to five years in prison.

The suicide shocked and disturbed gay rights activists and others on campus.

“Had he been in bed with a woman, this would not have happened,” said Rutgers student Lauren Felton, 21, of Warren, N.J. “He wouldn’t have been outed via an online broadcast, and his privacy would have been respected and he might still have his life.”

The Associated Press found at least 12 cases in the U.S. since 2003 in which children and young adults between 11 and 18 killed themselves after falling victim to some form of “cyberbullying” — teasing, harassing or intimidating with pictures or words distributed online or via text message.

In probably the best-known case, 13-year-old Megan Meier of Daddenne Prairie, Mo., hanged herself in 2006 after she received messages on MySpace — supposedly from a teenage boy — cruelly dumping her. An adult neighbor was later found guilty of taking part in the hoax, but the conviction was overturned.

Earlier this year, 17-year-old Alexis Pilkington of West Islip, N.Y., who had landed a college soccer scholarship, killed herself after receiving a stream of nasty messages.

Gregory Jantz, founder of A Place of Hope, a Seattle mental health care center, said young people who use the Internet to spread something damaging about others often don’t realize how hurtful it can be because many of them have grown up in a world that has blurred the line between public and private.

“Our kids are in a different zone now,” Jantz said.

Aftab said young people who would never bully someone face to face do it online in part because of the often-false sense of anonymity that the Internet provides.

“They’ll also jump on because they don’t want to be the next target,” Aftab said.

In Clementi’s case, prosecutors said that his roommate, Dharun Ravi of Plainsboro, N.J., and Molly Wei of Princeton, N.J., both 18-year-old freshmen, transmitted a live image of Clementi having sex on Sept. 19 and that Ravi tried to webcast a second encounter on Sept. 21, the day before Clementi’s suicide. Lawyers for Ravi and Wei did not return calls.

Luanne Peterpaul, vice chairwoman of the gay rights group Garden State Equality and a former New Jersey prosecutor, said authorities might be able to pursue the case as a hate crime under state law if they are able to establish that the defendants acted because they believed Clementi was gay.

Ravi posted a message on his now-closed Twitter account on Sept. 19: “Roommate asked for the room till midnight. I went into molly’s room and turned on my webcam. I saw him making out with a dude. Yay.”

Prosecutor Bruce J. Kaplan said in a statement: “We will be making every effort to assess whether bias played a role in the incident, and, if so, we will bring appropriate charges.”

A lawyer for Clementi’s family did not respond to requests for comment on whether Clementi had come out to friends and family about his sexual orientation. He also said the family had no comment.

The mourning continued at Rutgers; in Ridgewood, the suburban New Jersey town where Clementi grew up and attended high school; and across New Jersey.

Clementi’s violin teacher for the past five years could not believe he had taken his own life.

“He was a very genuine and, I guess, you could call it a shy person,” said Khullip Jeung, 33, who teaches out of his home in Fort Lee. “But when he played the violin, it was different. He had a strong voice. He knew what he wanted to say. And he spoke through his violin. And I think that is the real Tyler that I knew.”

Childhood friend Mary Alcaro, who played in a summer music academy with him, said Clementi had been destined for greatness.

“I’ve never heard anyone make a violin sing the way he did,” she said in an e-mail.

Even Gov. Chris Christie had something to say.

“As the father of a 17-year-old, I can’t imagine what those parents are feeling today,” he said. “Those people who led him to that bridge are going to have to bear that responsibility for the rest of their lives.”

Students at West Windsor-Plainsboro Regional High School, from which Ravi and Wei graduated, remembered them as nice people who were not in any way homophobic.

Ravi had gay friends, said Derek Yan, 16, a junior. Yan said he chatted online with Ravi about what college life was like, and Ravi “said he was lucky to have a good roommate. He said his roomate was cool.”

Why are they douchebags? See below.

*Text taken from the NY Post.

It was a fatal blow struck from cyberspace.

A shy Rutgers freshman was so humiliated when two cruel classmates secretly streamed live video of his gay encounter that he leaped to his death from the George Washington Bridge, authorities said yesterday.

“Jumping off the gw bridge sorry,” Tyler Clementi, 18, posted on his Facebook page just eight minutes before his plunge at around 8:50 p.m. on Sept. 22.

Clementi’s suicide led to a swift criminal probe and the arrest of his roommate, Dharun Ravi, and a fellow freshman, Molly Wei, for their alleged vile voyeurism.

NYPD Harbor Unit cops yesterday pulled the body of a young man from the waters off Manhattan’s northern tip — and cops suspect it was that of Clementi, a quiet, highly talented violinist from Ridgewood, NJ.

Authorities hoped that a watch found on his wrist would help identify him. Last night, NYPD detectives visited the teen’s parents, who were apparently unaware that their son was gay.

Robert Righthand, who had been friends with Clementi since grade school, said his pal had been holding that in.

“I can tell you that whatever state he was in, he had it in reserve for a very long time,” Righthand said while choking back tears.

“You never thought he was depressed. You just thought he was quiet. He wasn’t the person to open up to a lot of people.”

VIDEO: BODY FOUND IN HUDSON

The tragedy was set in motion on Sept. 19 in Davidson Hall on Rutgers’ idyllic Piscataway campus, where Clementi and his alleged tormentors, Ravi and Wei, started school a month ago.

Ravi, 18, activated the Webcam on his computer and headed to high-school classmate Wei’s room down the hall.

Using Skype, the two remotely accessed the feed and saw Clementi engaged in a “sexual encounter” with another man, authorities said.

That’s when they had their “American Pie” moment — callously sharing it with Ravi’s network of friends on iChat.

It’s unclear how many people saw the streaming video, but Ravi bragged about his sordid spying in a Twitter post later that same night.

“Roommate asked for the room till midnight. I went into molly’s room and turned on my Web cam. I saw him making out with a dude. Yay,” Ravi tweeted.

The Plainsboro, NJ, resident then tried to use the same Webcam to watch and transmit another sexual encounter he expected Clementi to have Sept. 21, authorities said. Prosecutors refused to elaborate.

In an apparent reference to that attempt, Ravi posted on Twitter, “I dare you to video chat me between the hours of 9:30 and 12. Yes its happening again.”

Dealing with Life in the Dorm Room