Not surprisingly, I peoplewatch a lot. I don’t do it consciously; I don’t derive pleasure from watching the hoi polloi. It’s really hard, though, to avoid noticing people when you sit in really close proximity to them.

I've made a ton of observations as a tiny entity in the corner, clawing its hair out as it struggled with the latest physics problem. These entities generally do not garner much attention. Thank God for it, too, since I doubt these people would take too kindly to being watched and listened to without their knowledge.

The event below actually happened two days ago, at this very same Barnes location. As it is not yet the end of January, colleges are still out on winter vacation. Many students have trickled home and are staying for the time being.

Friday nights are always so, so busy here. Blurs of people whiz around the cafe area, making the scene resemble a slow-exposure photograph. As a result, what seats were left were always were surrounded by throngs of people. My particular seat that evening was located next to a pair of college freshmen girls, recently back from their first taste of the world outside of their parents’ security.

I don’t say this to stereotype, even if they fit in perfectly. Knee high boots. Long, straight blonde hair. Tights as pants. iPhones, iPads, iEverything. North Face jackets. They had the works going; I could go on and on, but I’m pretty sure the image is pretty clear now. One of them was of normal build, slightly rounded with no sharp edges that could hurt. The other was more Rubenesque, easily twice the circumference of her friend.

It isn't their physical appearances that I was so caught up with (I may be shallow, but not that much just yet). It was their conversation. The two obviously had not seen each other in a long time, and were filling their talk hollow soap bubbles of triviality. The more zaftig one of the two gushed about her newest relationship with the brother of another friend, while the other sipped on her Frap and listened with her eyes glued to her iPhone’s screen. Typical suburbia.

“I can’t believe it! We actually have to do something with our lives soon!” she squealed, hands and whipped cream residue flying. “I mean, high school was fun and all, but now we actually have to do things!” Her companion responded just as passionately while nursing her smoothie and using what probably was Snapchat.

iPhone put down her phone with a loud clack on the table, and moaned loudly that “now we’re so poor, ugh, we can’t afford anything at all! Students’ poverty reaaaaally, really sucks.” Keep in mind, she’s saying this as she wears her UGGs, North Face, drinks Starbucks, and uses her iPhone 5. This was the kicker that caught my attention.

Granted, they’re just normal students from a well-off, upper middle class Caucasian family, like most of the town I loathe to call home sweet home. I’m in no position, at all, to judge their actions. This situation really sets off a chain reaction of thought, though; how come these girls, who can be assumed to be pretty privileged, can bemoan their first world problems so nonchalantly? Do they not feel guilt, when their problems are marginalized and completely overshadowed by the problems of uncountable other girls their own age? I’m just curious what goes through their minds as they talk about this.

Or maybe, just maybe, nothing goes through their streams of thought at all.

Maybe the soap bubbles are all they have.

Maybe, also, the words you have just read are my own soap bubbles, irrelevant, evanescent, and will all too soon pop and be scrubbed away by a careless thumb.