You’ve busted your tushie off for months. You’ve read at least 14 pages of Karl Marx’ manifesto, for reasons still unknown to the general public. You skip out of the freezing lecture theatre of your last exam. Perhaps you didn’t do as well as you had hoped for (Netflix arrived to Australia this semester, its legit, don’t worry). You stop and spend your weekly food budget on a freshly squeezed juice from the fruit carriage on campus. But, hey, it is A-OK, you don’t care. Why?