And on Monday’s I listen to inequality. I talk about the digital divide in political economy and we try not to say his name, but he always comes up. On Tuesday’s I attend African politics and we talk about the history that most public school’s left out. We watch video’s with eyes half closed because reality can be hard to watch with eyes fully open. On Wednesday’s I talk about beer, but on Wednesday’s I’m always tired. On Thursday’s we talk about colonialism and I gave a presentation on torture. I said we should sit on the floor, and we did, and it is remarkable what happens when there is no longer a desk between you and other classmates who have been biting their tongues. We sit in a broken circle and listen to each other attempt to grasp at the bits and pieces that we read out loud. And most of us feel guilty. Most of us don’t entirely know what to say, because all of this, goes far beyond us. And it hurts, but only because we have just learned how many people are really, really hurting. And during the week we all complain, because the world is shitty and our friends aren’t always our friends and we drank a bit too much last Saturday. We talk about ‘good vibes’ and ‘bad vibes’ and I wonder where we’d have to hide to avoid the bad ones, and who of us are really focussed on giving off the good one’s. On Friday’s I try to write but I don’t know what to say, and my head hurts from reading, and thinking things that I haven’t figured out how to put down on paper. On Saturday I want to go to church, because I haven’t been in a while, and when everything in the world is bad I want to be reminded that He is good, and maybe I just need a change of scenery. Because every week seems to be the exact same and I’m getting sleepy off of routine. I worry we have not really figured out how to talk about things – how to talk about things that we don’t agree with – things we don’t always want to hear – things that make us feel uncomfortable. And on weekend’s we like to drink, and take our clothes off in dimly lit bedrooms in front of people who have expiration dates stamped on their foreheads, because honey, this won’t last long but let’s get this done. And when you say it like that God, it doesn’t sound too great, but in the moment we all seem to really, really enjoy it. I won’t pretend that I don’t look forward to a good weekend and drinking with my friends. But perhaps the last couple weeks I’ve felt a little too hungover from it all and no amount of water is providing a quick-fix from this one.

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