Who was I kidding?

I finally ventured forth from my cave-like to behold this ceremony for which the University had spent countless hours preparing. I was momentairily surprised, although once I thought about it, I suppose I ought not have been. My school is not known for being very uptight- we're not exactly an Ivy League here. However, the scene before me had all the formality of a street fair. People had brought lawn chairs and were milling about or lounging on the grass. Children played and ran around. The occaisional individual talked on a cell phone, one man hiding behind a large bush to do so, presumably out of consideration for those around him. I could not help but think that this is what a celebration looks like; thousands of people sitting rigidly in uncomfortable chairs listening to a speaker drone on is hardly a celebration. I doubted anyone but the pretty committee would have noticed a crooked blind or window ajar. I asked myself, who then, exactly, was requiring me to have my apartment under such dark and airless conditions? Which translates into, when we commit everyday acts of rebellion, does anyone else necessarily notice or care? Who exactly is keeping us from being free? Are we just policing ourselves?