May 1, 2012
Fraudulence
My story starts as a cliché. I am a second-generation Korean-American, raised by hard-working parents who survived by the hope that I, their only son, would graduate with Ivy laurels. Success was my inculcated raison d’etre. Self-value and esteem were inextricably tied to my achievement. Dangerously, I fared well in school, and I tasted that sweet, crack cocaine of parental pride and approval. I achieved, therefore I was.
In my mid-20s, however, I became enlightened. I saw the follies of rampant materialism and the idolatry of pedigree. I vowed to live simply without gaud or pretense, to live whole and secure in a spartan identity. I viewed German automobiles with righteous indignation, swearing I’d never be that guy. I prided myself on driving an aging four-door Honda Civic. My inoperable passenger side window only sweetened my self-righteousness.
Through twists...
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