this april foolishness

"I'm so bored," she said, her shoes clicking hard on the pavement, heading eastbound in what should have been more of a hurry.

"Bored right this second, or bored with everything?" I asked, partly out of curiosity, and partly because it seemed like the right thing to ask.

"I don't know. Maybe once it gets warmer…" she answered, partly because she meant it, and partly because it seemed like the right thing to answer.

These are the days of our younger lives. Enjoy them while you can, I always tell myself. And while worthy opportunities arise, and the jackets and socks come off to stay off, there is still a sense of static that I cannot seem to shake.

Then, we're sitting in makeup chairs: ultra white lids and red lips to match. The overall ambience is Redbull, and there are clipboards and there is shouting, and there is nothing "good" to read. And I think to myself how lucky I should feel, and should have always felt, to try new things, walk in different shoes, meet new faces and choose whose I'll remember and whose I'll eventually forget.

And I sneeze as I go, and I wonder if people will choose to remember that, too.

What feels like seconds later, the congested setting becomes a darker, comparably empty bar. Sitting together in (what I would define as) a spontaneous gathering of friends, we discus communism, and Kool Moe Dee, and decide which of us looks most Jewish, ex-evangelical company included. I win, but it's a close tie.

"See, this is nice," she turns to me and smiles. "Isn't this fun? Just going out, without a plan, meeting people for a drink on a Tuesday?"

She says without a plan like one might speak to a wayward kid caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar. It's something I vowed to work on. Spontaneity (not eating fewer cookies). She was just reminding me, I guess.

"I'm really glad we got to hang out," the other said, peering through signature specs and sweeping hair. And although I'm not sure I said it back, I felt the same, most genuinely. Chivalrous men are rarely available (to me; or most women), but I'll still take it where I can get it. He closed the cab door behind me, and instructed the driver, through the open windows, to get me home in one piece. I watched his curls get smaller and smaller as we drove, and I couldn't believe how quickly the night passed, or how good it felt to take off my shoes.

Today it's (only) 13 and sunny. I don't have all that much to do, next to study, but somehow I don't feel bored. Not even at all.