It's not just a new year — it's a new you! So what're you gonna do about it?

Ah, New Year's Day: Time to get on with your life. Time to re-evaluate the fabulous art piece that is you.

Look at it. Does it tilt too much to the left? Could it use a touch-up here or there? Should you just throw it out and start all over again?

It's Jan. 1 — a time for renewal, or at least it feels that way. Somewhere within the paper-shuffling, groupthink matrix of your brain, you got the memo: This is how we do things around here. The calendar turns, a new day dawns and, right on cue, an invisible finger pokes you in the shoulder as if to say: Now what?

(Well, get a new calendar, for starters.)

But the finger keeps prodding: Set some goals! You're either moving forward or you're falling behind! Do something with your life!

Poke, poke, poke.

Why now, you ask? Because there is significance in the fact that we refer to today not as Next Year's Day, but New Year's Day. It's a beginning — but a beginning of what? A new year, of course, but somehow it's about more than that, isn't it?

We ... must ... set goals. We must trace new realities for ourselves, follow our dreams. The people who post on www.43things.com — a Web site for goal setters — know this like the back of their note-scrawled hands. For them, goal-setting and dream-chasing are like nut-gathering to a squirrel; sharing the things they'd like to do is a way of earning encouragement and making themselves accountable, whether their goal is practicing yoga, going hunting or just trying something new every week.

"I think a lot of us think to ourselves, 'I wish I could,' or 'I wanna do'," one user writes. "43 Things helps me to get off my backside and actually focus on those things."

"Nine things down — a kabillion to go!" says another.

We are imperfect beings, after all, and the fact that we recognize that makes us unique. Say what you want about dolphins, horses, Dennis Rodman, any manner of so-called animal intelligentsia. Do dolphins greet the new year and vow to quit smoking? Do whales yearn to skydive?

Happy New Year, Homo sapiens. Time to look back now. Did you declutter? (No.) Get out of debt? (Not quite.) Volunteer more often? (Um, no.) Become an early riser? (OK, stop asking already.)

This is your chance to clean house, and that noise you hear is the collective shaking of millions of internal Etch-a-Sketches across the land. Don't waste time worrying about what everyone else is doing. They're moving on, making plans. You don't want to be the one kicked off the island, do you?

Every year, it seems, you find yourself in this place. King of the world. Architect of your own destiny. Babe Ruth, forecasting the arc of your home-run ball. But somewhere between first and third base, you get sidetracked — whoops, have to finish that work project, or take the dog to the vet, or clean up all those Cheerios in the back seat of the minivan.

And suddenly, MP3 players have gotten smaller, and cellphones have gotten smarter and there is some new acronym the kids are using that is totally foreign to you. And the neighbor looks thinner. Or are you thicker?

Don't despair: The calendar has rebooted. Promise fills the air. The hangover is fading. In the far distance, you can hear the voices of crooning angels. (Or it could still be the hangover.) Clear the game board, baby! You've got another chance.

And so, I would like to: Thank the Academy. Lose 20 pounds. Stop being so mean. Stop being so nice. Learn how to drive a stick-shift.

Does any other time of the year offer such possibility?

This could be the year you learn Mandarin ... the year you use all your Scrabble tiles and get the triple-letter score ... the year you stop gravely furrowing your brow when you use your laptop in public. ... Imagine the possibilities!

When the novelty — that new year smell! — of Jan. 1 fades, there will be only you; and your goals; and that vast, terrifying wilderness of 364 tomorrows. Take a deep breath, or it might be overwhelming.

2006: That was the year that was. It isn't anymore. All that anticipation, and now it's time. Don't just stand there. Grab the baton. Make this your year. The year of you. Again.

You're not perfect. Act like it.