Revolution against resolutions

Student Life

By Jennifer Hegarty

Are you one of those well-meaning but naïve lambs that make promises of self-improvement every year? Stop, think and reflect. Are your aims realistic? Or just a masochistic attempt to write down everything you failed at doing last year due to lack of self-discipline? Then you fail again, and you’ve made your world a little darker.
But do not fear readers, we have slaved away to bring you these enjoyably revamped (and easily achievable) resolutions:

To lose weight and eat healthily: the most common and frankly least imaginative resolution there is. Who wants to listen to you talk about the calories, chemicals, and cholesterol in hall food, and how you now only eat organic semi-processed raw vegan food that’s been washed in the tears of a Norse virgin?
No-one. No-one at all. Instead, your new goal is to, well, pig out – but not only that.
Try to display your over-enjoyment of food to anyone you can find who is attempting to diet. Find anyone striving to avoid chocolate, crisps, cake and other delectable delicacies, and enjoy your food in front of them. Loudly.

Do you really think saving a few pennies will make any difference? We’re so far up the proverbial creek at this stage that the source is in sight – and it’s dried up, to stretch the metaphor.
George Osborne isn’t going to turn up at your door in a few months time and ask to borrow your savings. You may as well enjoy yourself.
So splurge. Use your Christmas money and Hilary budget combined to go crazy in the sales. Due to aforementioned fiscal failures, the shops are desperate to get you in.
The goal? To buy as many things as possible that are of NO practical use – we’re talking gold-encrusted toe separators, diamond shoelace racks or platinum eyebrow combs


Everyone comes back at the start of term with good intentions. Even if they only last a fortnight, you get some extra work done, but then you return to your normal fun-loving self.What you don’t realise is that three fortnights a year amounts to a month and a half of below-peak banter. Here at the OxStu, we know that anything other than maximum banter is not to be tolerated.Familiar with the concept of a Golden Week? In which you attend everything you’re supposed to, every lecture, class and tute? Well, guess what a Black Fortnight might be, and after you’re done exercising those deductive facilities, Sherlock, start your term with one.

If you take up a new hobby, you will either a) become obsessed with your new favourite activity, and tell everyone you know how great it is and that they should do it too (think of the rower – don’t be that guy), or b) give up, inevitably just after you’ve spent a large amount of money on some ‘cool’, but unnecessary, equipment.
Instead of joining an actual group for an actual activity, set up your own society, and apply for funding. Most colleges offer money once you have a certain number of members. You + mates + silly activity = the Pembroke Philanderers, Magdalen Maudlin & Mawkish Men, or the Catz Crumpet-Crammers.

I’m going to tread softly on your dreams here, because I don’t want to have to admit one day that I told the next Oscar Wilde to stop arsing around at university pretending to be, err, the next Oscar Wilde. That would just be embarrassing.
So your new goal is to write a book. Get it bound professionally. Leave it on your coffee table accidentally one day when your friends are coming over. And there you have instant rep as an ‘intellectual’. See how long you can keep it up – extra points for faking book reviews or interviews with yourself online…