varying degrees of light

It's exam week. In fifteen minutes I'll take my Political Studies exam and do my best to perform a basic understanding of developing nations and their challenge to maintain basic civic services in an ever-altering and shifting globalized economy. Also, political violence and its origins. (It's origins: anger.) There are seven chapter outlines to read through and more presentations on faith groups in American politics -- some are more accessible than others, but it's all interesting. (Speaking in generalities, with economic growth comes the challenge of rapid urbanization and a heavy strain on civic utilities and services, usually a rise in crime, and a greater demand for access to goods and a better lifestyle. It has been said that globalization would more accurately be termed Americanization.) A friend stopped by my study space here, my cubicle, to kill some time. "I don't want to grow up." This directly relates to the exam -- I swear. (I'm back from it now.) "I don't want to grow up," is often a stance of anxiety and overwhelming fatigue that... rears it's nasty-ass face at the end of first semester senior year. Also, said friend happens to major in the Humanities, but that's largely erroneous. The Political Studies class is exhausting in its conflicting energies, with which we walk away from every time. We talk of poverty and corruption in developing countries, of nations without states to speak from and we are all, if we are listening, overwhelmed. If we are listening, we are groaning and if we are fulfilled, we think of ways to adjust our lives and alter our post-grad plan to somehow take further what little we've learned. We do this because we are dissatisfied with the current state of the world and not only do we justify our new course of action, we truly believe it will change something.
Or.
We experience every day as a conflict with ourselves and the people that we find ourselves surrounded with. Why can't we digest our anxieties? We hate that our only option -- the best idea we can come up with -- is to feign happiness and normality. Not only do we hate doing this, putting a face of apathy, strength and satisfaction up, we hardly ever believe that we're fooling anybody. And at the same time, we can see that it works. It works on ourselves too... but only when we're on stage, and the audience is roaring in laughter. And when we're not, we're licking our wounds alone and just making it outside to class, to sitting in Political Studies where, if we happen to be awake, if we're listening, we just fall deeper in despair. We're either crying and fighting or crying ourselves to sleep.