December break is almost here. By the time we return, Santa Marx will have made his annual visit, tempting bourgeoisie children to embrace the revolution with thoughts of free toys for all.
Various glowing, spherical objects will have descended slowly to the ground, including an apple, an orange, a potato, an avocado and an oddly-shaped pear.
These events will be greeted by the shouts and cheers of countless multitudes, who will celebrate by burying the local metropolitan area in small pieces of colored tape.
Inevitably, half the population will already have pursued an aggressive regifting and degifting strategy, going to absurd lengths to return items they got for free or give away items that they didn’t care for.
As such, “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday” will be joined by “What Is This Crap Wednesday,” where retailers will neither gain nor lose money, but simply rotate in a gentle circle for several hours (and possibly, descend slowly to the ground.)
But by far the most onerous event of the season is the establishment of the New Year’s resolution. Roughly stated, this tradition stems from the common human belief that the arrival of a large round number means that we can throw out everything we’ve learned from prior experience and practice.
Self-help types claim that one of the main reasons most people face difficulty with their New Year’s resolutions is that they choose goals others want them to achieve.
Let’s take me for example.
A few days ago, I worked through the night on an important assignment until about 4 a.m.
I awoke again at 8 a.m. to study for an exam in ITM covering the use of Excel, a program I vow never to use again.
I began my morning by going to the bookstore, whereupon I consumed two bottles of coffee. Then I went to the Jaeb Computer Center, where I did the Excel practice questions twice.
After, I returned to the bookstore and downed two more bottles of coffee. No one asked why.
Fluttering through the air like a hummingbird, I hovered outside the College of Business and read through my notes. By the time the exam was to begin, I was feeling the pesky, performance-limiting effects of human nature again.
I returned to the bookstore for two more coffees. At this point, the original cast recording of Nixon in China was screeching in my brain at full volume.
Stopping briefly at The Minaret office, I sang and danced to the Soviet national anthem courtesy of Charlie Hambos, ran around the room in circles for several minutes, then went back to the Jaeb for my exam.
By this point, only Kissinger and Mao were still in my head, which I thought I could deal with. I drank half another bottle of coffee before the exam and finished it in the middle.
I got a high B.
Muttering to myself and occasionally doing a dance step (“And mountain ranges one by one / rise red beneath our harvest moon ….”) I returned to my room, seriously contemplated throwing up my central nervous system, and then spent the entire night writing another paper At some point, I am almost certain that I slept, but perhaps I imagined it. (“… and the fields are white …”)
As one can tell from this anecdote, which reflects most of my fall semester, many of my goals are provided by other people. Parameters, outcomes and deadlines are dictated by circumstances often far beyond my control
Sadly, this is probably the case with many students, especially those who believe that performance in college reflects success in real life.
Another issue that often prevents such resolutions from being a success is that the goals we tend to imagine are unreasonable. We hope we will fly to the moon, learn to dance the Watusi, climb Mt. Everest and discover a way to make our flatulence smell pleasantly of pine.
Of course, after a particularly difficult semester, who doesn’t want to believe that something better might come along?
But that “something” will only come if we work for it, and there’s only so many things we can work toward at once.
Suddenly, the odds that New Year’s will be a smashing success seem pretty slim, don’t they?
But! Rather than be discouraged, I’m going to take a different route. I hereby declare that my New Year’s resolution is simply this: I will become 20 percent more awesome by 2009.
Difficult to imagine, isn’t it?
I have no idea what form this resolution will take, but I know I will succeed, since only I can determine if I have done so or not.
Perhaps I’ll finally get in shape (thanks to the pool, this was working out – until classwork spilled over into my workout time.)
Perhaps I’ll finally finish the novel I’ve been working on for 16 years. Luckily, the academy and I are in collusion on this point, thanks to the Writing Program and a particularly effective independent study.
On some future New Year, a band will follow me around, playing my own smooth jazz theme song as I go about my business.
For this year, I’ll settle for something – anything – becoming better than it was last year. The key, I think, is to make sure that whatever you choose doesn’t become another “goal” handed down by the very same people who benefit all year from things staying Exactly As They Are.
In the end, the real wonder of the New Year’s resolution is the power to decide.
So, when you decide, be sure to make it good: this might be the year it works out after all.