by Caroline Weber
Lighter Side
Lighter Side
Since my last name is in that cursed spot at the end of the alphabet, another year means another guidance counselor. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, because I just can’t seem to hold on to one for more than a year. I’ve tried to be strong, but three guidance counselors in three years really did some emotional damage.
lighter side
Freshman year I went into the guidance office and talked for hours. I rambled about my goals for the future, my extended family, my Grandma’s cats and the time I got sick at McDonalds. Apparently, my guidance counselor forgot to mention she would be taking time off to focus on her daughter’s supposedly stellar performing abilities. Imagine my bewilderment when I saw her on an episode of Dance Moms. I tried to keep in touch, but the long distance thing was too painful to handle.
The experts at Tiger Beat suggested I take it slow and be less needy, so sophomore year I tried a more casual approach, and only met with my new counselor a few times. When that one jumped ship, I was irritated. I entered my junior year with hostility and major commitment issues.
At the end of junior year, my third counselor left to be with children much younger and far less complicated than I. I’m convinced it was because I asked to change my schedule twelve times, single-handedly driving away the person responsible for writing me a glowing college recommendation. My self-esteem only went downhill from there, I couldn’t escape the pain since The Notebook was on TV constantly. (A little sensitivity would have been nice, ABC Family). So I hung out with Ben & Jerry and blubbered as I imagined a future in which I had meaningless flings with random counselors and never settled down.
Thankfully, things are looking brighter these days. After I received a friendly introductory email from my new guidance counselor three weeks ago, I was able to pull myself away from the Chunky Monkey and look toward a pleasant tomorrow.
Today begins my relationship with my fourth guidance counselor, and I am so happy to finally be moving on. I’m dressed to impress, wearing a shirt that says “Fourth time’s a charm.” I’ve got a rabbit’s foot keychain on my backpack, a four leaf clover in my pocket and a watch that reads 11:11 on my wrist. (Is it still lucky if I set it like that this morning?) I need all the luck I can get because I’m not sure my heart can stand the pain of another rejection.
The experts at Tiger Beat suggested I take it slow and be less needy, so sophomore year I tried a more casual approach, and only met with my new counselor a few times. When that one jumped ship, I was irritated. I entered my junior year with hostility and major commitment issues.
At the end of junior year, my third counselor left to be with children much younger and far less complicated than I. I’m convinced it was because I asked to change my schedule twelve times, single-handedly driving away the person responsible for writing me a glowing college recommendation. My self-esteem only went downhill from there, I couldn’t escape the pain since The Notebook was on TV constantly. (A little sensitivity would have been nice, ABC Family). So I hung out with Ben & Jerry and blubbered as I imagined a future in which I had meaningless flings with random counselors and never settled down.
Thankfully, things are looking brighter these days. After I received a friendly introductory email from my new guidance counselor three weeks ago, I was able to pull myself away from the Chunky Monkey and look toward a pleasant tomorrow.
Today begins my relationship with my fourth guidance counselor, and I am so happy to finally be moving on. I’m dressed to impress, wearing a shirt that says “Fourth time’s a charm.” I’ve got a rabbit’s foot keychain on my backpack, a four leaf clover in my pocket and a watch that reads 11:11 on my wrist. (Is it still lucky if I set it like that this morning?) I need all the luck I can get because I’m not sure my heart can stand the pain of another rejection.