Storm of nostalgia

"There are some that only employ words for the purpose of disguising their thoughts."
-Voltaire
(From Criminal Minds, 1x20, "Charm and Harm")

I had a thought while I was in the shower a few hours ago. Well, less a thought, more a musing, potentially a question.

When two boys are the best of friends, it's referred to as a bromance. When two girls are the best of friends, they are called bosom buddies. What's the term for when a boy and a girl are the best of friends? (And, you know, not romantically interested in each other). I miss it. (Applies to different/multiple parts of the above sentence).

On a somewhat related note, I need something hardwired into my brain that records all of my awesome thoughts constantly. This is not to imply all of my thoughts are awesome; simply that only the awesome ones need to be noted for posterity (and later rumination). It's a problem because some of my wonkiest ideas come to me either as I'm walking around campus or while I'm in the shower, neither of which is really conducive to jotting stuff down. Walking tends to inspire illegible handwriting, and water can be kind of rough on paper, so to speak. (Technically it's soggy on paper, but that statement could get confusing).

Nostalgia is a painful, beautiful phenomenon.

I friended a bunch of my high school teachers on Facebook day before yesterday.

I posted on some of their walls; I traded messages with them.

I left a message for my 3rd grade teacher at her elementary school. I'm hoping she remembers me and calls back.

Mr. Templin uploaded pictures from our Wallops Island trip in 10th grade. We were so small, so naive, so...connected.

I'm trying, sometimes it feels like in vain, to revive, salvage, rediscover, resuscitate one of my most precious high school friendships that I somehow lost a year and a few months ago. It's like picking at a wound that never fully healed. I keep hoping the scab will come away and reveal tender, pink, healing skin underneath; instead, it starts bleeding all over again.

Pictures. People. Memories. Countdowns all over again. Taste of the future. Am I ready for this?