Good news! I still haven't broken any of my new year's resolutions. Since they all include the clause "Once the semester starts" this hasn't been too tough (my only winter break-exclusive resolutions were "sleep" and "beer"). But now, the first bright, snowy Tuesday of the semester dawns, and I realize that push has come to shove. I can't fool myself any longer - it's time to follow through on those strident, gutsy resolutions I made at the bottom of a champagne glass. But, as humans do, I feel myself already faltering - gym? It's -10 with a chance of Yeti. Healthy eating? Whitney omelette bar! Work? My roommate brought up Nerf guns! What's a student to do?
Stick together to survive.
Like a zombie apocalypse, a field of intimidating semester's resolutions is best navigated with some buddies. But, also like zombies, resolutions need tough love. You can't talk it out with the undead, and you can't let your friends rationalize your resolutions away. When you're trying to get anything done, friends are - more often than not - bad for you.
"Mac and cheese! Oh, but I shouldn't, really, I'm trying to lose weight."
"Nah, who needs to lose weight? You're beautiful the way you are!"
And while I'm all for helpful self-esteem boosts, they're only useful if they're actually reinforcing positive behaviors. Unless your resolution was "have a great time with my friends" (commendable), those late-night calzone calories aren't going get you any closer to shedding the pounds. So, alternately, try to find that fraternal spirit in something that actually helps your cause:
"Hey, yo, check out this salad! Boss, dude!"
"Yeah, man, that salad turns it up to 11! Diesel slick!"
"Pound it!"
And, of course, it helps to make resolutions in groups - otherwise that one girl who resolved to "drink way more vodka this semester" will ruin it for everyone.
Penalty box.
People are electric - they always take the path of least resistance. If you present me with fun video games on the one hand, and dumb homework on the other, I'll choose the easy, enjoyable and relaxing option every time. So you need to tip the scales in responsibility's favor; if this means slipping Justice a fiver or two, that's cool (she's blind; she won't know you did it anyway).
Make a set of rules, and give yourself a tangible penalty every time you break those rules - give your roommate a dollar, for example. If you don't have a roommate, make the equivalent of a "swear jar," and then spend the money on something useful (beer is not "useful") at the end of each month.
Or be more creative: a certain number of infractions equals a certain number of push-ups or minutes added on to your run.
Or even make the penalty a social one: make a pact with your friends to totally flip out at each other if you shirk your duties. On the plus side, this will probably be effective; on the minus side, you might not be friends any more at the end of the semester.
Strict Scheduling
Freedom is important, which is why George Washington fought for it. Thanks, George! But freedom is also poisonous. If you're serious about changing your habits, don't leave a single day completely open; pencil in some reading at the very least. Print off a copy of your schedule and fill in the non-academic blanks - every last one.
Even if you just write "watch cartoons and sip Private Stock" for Friday night, you've at least clearly delineated some essential "fun time." If you set hard, fast limits for "time you can relax" and "time you gotta step it up," you'll find that your work gets done much more regularly and that your relaxation is a lot more relaxing.
After all, the most unpleasant free time is the afternoon you spend with that paper hanging over your head - with proper scheduling, you can get that paper done the night before, and surf Wikipedia guilt-free.



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