Making the most of next semester: a freshman perspective

I began this year, as I have begun so many others, believing fervently in the illusion of an imminent reformation in the conduct of my life. In other words, I had come under the sway of the New Year's Resolution. Though the rigor of my annual ritual has somewhat softened, the content has remained exactly the same: this year I will be more punctual, finish my work conscientiously, exercise more often and stop being so bitchy.

These projects were doomed to failure, and I have determined where to place the blame: Princeton, specifically its never-ending fall semester. How can I be expected to adopt a fresh attitude toward the same work for the same tired old classes? How can a vast, cold January with no scheduled activity — and no scheduled bedtime — motivate me to be the vessel of well-rounded excellence I seem to feel I should be? (If only I could explain why my resolutions failed the first umpteen years....)

Yet this same calendar now offers me another chance: a new semester, as yet uncorrupted by failure and vice. I certainly would not want to squander this opportunity. After some serious thought, I have settled on goals that differ a bit from my usual fare. Sincere efforts to do the following will improve all aspects of my life:

1. Learn people's names. This is not trivial. My penchant for identifying acquaintances by their accessories, attributes or residences has unfortunately limited my social life. The Girl with the Purple Hat, for example, may not have been wearing that particular hat when my friend saw her on the Street, neutralizing what might otherwise have been a very relevant and interesting story. Cute Econ Lecture Boy may not be universally recognized as such, and you certainly can't find What's-her-face-from-Forbes on facebook.com. Asking for names is awkward, especially when others clearly know mine. But what's wrong with a little awkward?

2. Don't be afraid of the weights. In some respects, the accessibility of the gym puts me in an ideal position to develop that elusive quality called "tone" in my upper body; more realistically, I should at least seek to have an upper body in the first place. Yet my lack of prowess has tended to reinforce itself: My fear is that some Adonis, or for that matter some Venus, will observe my comic struggles with the fitness machines and seek to "show me how," an experience that could only be humiliating for all parties involved. But this is no excuse: Someday I'll be expected to lift something — my laundry, for example — and it would be nice to do it without feeling as if I were training for the Olympics.

3. Read, then speak in seminar. The reverse order did not hurt my grades, but it did make classes much less worthwhile than they might have been. My goal is to be able to honestly say, "When I read this passage, I felt that..." or else to maintain a polite silence. However well I might be able to picture what I would feel while reading Marcus Aurelius or to imagine the ontological proof — impatience, frustration, an involuntary nap coming on — it's important to actually have the experience.

Ideally these changes will be only symptoms of a deeper paradigm shift: ceasing to judge myself through the eyes of critical others, whether peers or professors, and instead having the self-worth to accept and actually embrace my awkwardness, be it physical, social or academic. These simple goals for second semester might not make me the All-American Model Boy, but I'm convinced they hold an important key to happiness. Jacob Denz is a freshman from Greenwood, Ind. He can be reached at jdenz@princeton.edu.