No time like the present

It feels like every time I turn around, somebody somewhere is trying to become better. Complacency? That doesn’t exist at Duke University. That ole saying, “you are enough” doesn’t apply in a world where the drive for a 4.0 seems to dictate all. “Better,” I realize, is a broad term, so let me elaborate based on my recent Duke fieldwork.

My friends want to be smarter, more cultured, more efficient and cooler. “It’s senior year,” they always tell me. “We gotta live it up!”

Even my professors strive to be more approachable, more cultured and more efficient.

Duke University wants to become more esteemed, more successful and… safer. Hence, the Tailgate cancellation.

I know, I know, terminating the single-most legit excuse to drunkenly wear a tutu in the Blue Zone is not a “betterment” in the eyes of many. And by the time this column runs, I’m sure the topic will have been beaten to a pulp. No matter, as an admitted fair-weather Duke football fan and advocate of the safety of minors, I see the point.

But, back to individual betterment. Generally, like most of you, I wait until New Year’s Day to “better” myself. Year after year, I make lofty resolutions that last as long as a gallon of Kroger skim milk.

Jan. 1, 2005: I will floss everyday.

Actual duration of flossage: Less than a week.

Jan. 1, 2008: I will drink less.

Actual duration of soberness: Well, I came back to school somewhere around the 10th, so… nine days. Kidding. But, not really.

You get the picture. New Year’s resolutions aren’t my forte. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the principle—new year, clean slate, fresh start—but delaying my self-improvement until the first of the year seems arbitrary and just adds more pressure, setting me up for failure every time.

So, who started this resolution nonsense anyway? Turns out, like so many of the traditions in our modern world, this one started in ancient Rome.

The tradition of New Year’s resolutions goes all the way back to 153 B.C.E. when Janus (think January…), a mythical king, was placed at the head of the calendar. King Janus had not one, but two faces. With one face, he could look back at the past and with the other he would peer forward to the future. Eventually, Janus became the ancient symbol for resolutions as many Romans looked for forgiveness from their enemies at the beginning of each year.

In my humble opinion, resolutions by Janus, once a year, just isn’t the way to go. What about “betterment” in baby steps? How about we just pick something we know we can do, at least once, and just do it. Then repeat. Right now. I flossed my teeth this morning, and I’m planning on doing it tomorrow. 2005 throwback, but it’s possible.

Let’s call this “bite size” betterment. I think it could work. Lots of little “betterments” going on all the time should certainly have more lasting impact than that impossible big old Janus New Year’s thing that never sticks.

How about resolutions to be more efficient (10-page paper in two hours), more cultured (eat Panda with chopsticks instead of a fork), cooler (drinks on a Monday night) and more intellectual (listen to opera instead of rap)? But seriously, we would all be “better” before we know it.

And maybe the University could learn from this too.

Perhaps eliminating Tailgate altogether wasn’t the best way to go. The reasons behind it are admirable, but so were the reasons behind my 2007 attempt to do something nice for my brother every day. The large-scale approach to bettering one of the most publicized campus “problems” will not work. Mark my words.

Neither you nor I had a say in the administration’s decision to terminate the party in the Blue Zone, but each of us has control over our personal betterment. So let’s just focus on what we can change for now—ourselves.

There’s no time like the present. Want to get better? Forget Janus and go bite-size. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Molly Lester is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Tuesday.