When you have an unusual name, it can do one of several things for you. If you’re super hot, you go nowhere but up. I mean, what’s more desirable than a pretty girl named Brynne or a cute guy named Demetri? On the other hand, if you’re super not then your weird name does nothing but drag you down. At that point you might as well be the proverbial hideous girl named Ulga and walk yourself to the corner with it. Though with me, and maybe this makes me sound vain, I didn’t know which side it hit me hardest from. My head and my heart constantly fought against each other over the matter; my head recalling all of the times I’d heard kids at school saying things to me like “What? Did your mom have a seizure in the middle of trying to name you Amber?” while my heart tried instead to reassure me that the name actually meant something to my mom, and my dad for that matter, which is all that should’ve mattered to me, not the knee-jerk reaction it extracted from people.