Dear Mortal Friends,
I have an important announcement to share with you. Prepare yourselves, as many of you will cry upon hearing the news (some out of sadness, others of happiness). After three years of roaming the halls of The Emory Wheel and responding to desperate pleas for advice and wisdom through Dear Doolina, it is time for me to move on. I thought I might be able to pass on the column to my younger cousin, Doolé, without anyone noticing. But, as you may have noticed from last week’s column, which Doolé authored, he’s just not ready to step in and fill the giant hole left by my departure.
And so, mortal friends, today I am announcing the end of the Dear Doolina column. Though my column aimed to help those who sought it, I must confess that writing the column helped me in countless ways, too. I’ve grown more compassionate, hearing the awkward and painful kerfuffles you students often find yourselves in; less judgmental, realizing that we see only the surface level of what others experience; and, of course, infinitely wiser. I have included below some of my favorite stories from the past three years — I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thank you all for taking part in this wondrous, out-of-body experience with me. It’s been a truly delightful ride.
The first thing I’d recommend is not comparing you and your would-be beau to Jack and Rose — comparisons to the “Titanic” are never pretty. You know Jack winds up dead, right? Even though there was CLEARLY enough space for both Jack and Rose on that piece of floating debris. Obviously your old pal Doolina has some unresolved issues with the “Titanic” movie, but I digress.
So let’s get this straight: you like boy, boy doesn’t know you exist. This seems like a classic romantic comedy situation (note for emphasis: “Titanic” does not equal rom com), so let’s refer to one of the greats: “Mean Girls.” According to “Mean Girls,” you should pretend you’re terrible at math to the point of flunking and get him to tutor you. Alternatively, sabotage Jack’s girlfriend by feeding her protein bars disguised as weight-loss supplements.
If neither of these options suit you, forget about grand moves and think small: can you ask Jack/Aaron Samuels a question about your shared class? If you develop a rapport about classes, try to transition that into studying together. Over time you’ll get to know your crush better, and you can decide whether you want to transition studying together into “studying” together. I hope you and Jack fall in sync just like the characters in the “Titanic!
Dear Enquiring Minds,
While I don’t have a valentine per se, I do have my eye on a certain skeleton with a fine tail bone who roams these paths and from time to time lets students out of class. Let’s just say I’d let him put a ring on my phalanges if he asked. Hopefully, he’ll see through my cold exterior and love who I am on the inside — which shouldn’t be too hard, as I am a skeleton after all.
Dear Turtle Lover,
I’m going to have to agree with your RA on this one. But Master Splinter may also be able to shed some wisdom on this conundrum.