This summer, as I scuttled around New Zealand, a victim of Let's Go exploitation, I did some thinking. I was all alone, bitter and so bored that I watched my laptop's graphics demo five times. A low-key break from civilization turned into a personal hell when I realized who I was stuck with--me. The sound of my voice in my head drove me insane as I'd crank through the same set of self-examining questions. Over and over. I would even dictate impassioned editor's notes (like this) in my head. At the time, I didn't think I was making much progress, but I did have one, self-loathing thought about my life: what a tremendous snob I've turned out to be! Upon my return, I realized that I had, actually, learned something useful from all that mind-grinding. I should (A) never travel alone and (B) reinvent myself. And so that was it. A new semester, a new me; J.P., post-pretentious.

Ten summers before last summer, I spent the month of July at Camp Miniwanca in Michigan. Back then, I didn't have an angsty bone in my body. I'd sail on Stony Lake, pine away for Becca Cannon and nod along when Miniwanca staff tried to teach the camp's philosophy. The mumbo-jumbo about balancing the mental, physical, social and religious aspects of myself, living a "four fold life," only got between me and lanyard bracelet making. But recently, I've reconsidered. More than ever, I think I could use some mumbo and a pinch of jumbo to be somebody I like better.

I'm voting for a new-semester makeover that runs deeper than a Hervé Chapelier handbag and darker jeans. Something drastic. So I've snuck a little Camp Miniwanca into Issue One; FM's back-to-school, in-your-face guide to self-improvement gives a you the gentle kick in the ass you need to supe up your life in four familiar departments. I think Becca Cannon would be proud.

On the homefront, FM has made some renovations of our own. We are currently expanding our listings section with more food and drink reviews, better features and fetching photography. Get in on the action--save FM for all your diversion needs. And if you have a listing for us or if you just want to give us some lip, email fm@thecrimson.com. In this issue we also debut "Scoped," an on-going photo feature dedicated to proving that single hotties attend Harvard University. Come to think of it, you may want to save this too. Finally, FM has been born-again with a promising crew of new compers, some of whom have weazeled their way into the first issue. If you're not comping--and you know you want to--get your shit together and sign up. (Meeting tonight, 9/30, at 7 p.m.)

The prescription, then, is as follows: read on, get out, start over.