It probably doesn't actually count as my first kiss, especially if I don't count the one when I was in kindergarten, which I don't, and this wasn't too different - well, it was different, but it doesn't meet the actual-kiss criteria any better.
See, tonight we had a sort of birthday party for Leah, in which we all went up on the roof of the faculty offices and put actual candles in a pie (they wouldn't let us have candles in the dorms, so we put paper flames in paper clips in a slice of pie), and this sentence has lost where it started so I'll start a new one. So, Leah was going around kissing everybody for neither the first nor the last time this evening, and she and I were aiming for each other's cheeks and sort of missed and dry lip contact occurred.
Yeah, maybe it doesn't count, but it's the closest I've gotten for at least thirteen years if not my entire life.
And we all danced on the roof, and ate pie, and laughed, and made Leah's birthday as happy as we could. It was nice. We've been doing pretty well at this whole finals week thing - studying lots, and effectively (I feel pretty good about the chemistry test I took today, and even the impending statistics final is starting to look a little less insurmountable), but also having a lot of fun. Much of which fun, for Leah and me at least, involving elaborating on our mutual fantasy - the one where we and our obscure celebrity crush go touristing through time and space, now with the addition of a space-helmet-wearing red panda named Ziggy. It's a great fantasy.
So... yeah. That's what's going on with me.
And I'm still a little confused about the whole Facebook thing - in that awkward phase of 'just posted my first status and it's super awkward and none of my four friends has done much of anything either so I don't know what's going on...'
'Cause I've got an actual book - made of paper - for that sort of stuff. That book is, like, my mind. More so than this journal is. So if something happens, or I think of something silly and awesome or whatever, I just write it down or draw it. That book is full of all sorts of quotes and sketches and things I've been trying to remember. It's got a periodic table I've been trying to construct from memory, stick-figure drawings of whatever's happened that's been worth remembering, transcripts of what my roommate says in her sleep, homework problems, a drawing of Ziggy in his adorable spacepanda helmet, et cetera et cetera et cetera. However many years from now, I'll be able to look at this book and get a real idea of what my mind was like when I was eighteen-nineteen years old. It's great.
And I go around showing it to everybody, too. Like a real-life version of what I imagine Facebook is like for people who actually use it. It's a book in which I just put whatever's going on in my world, and I show it to everybody and they comment on it - verbally.
And for some reason this spellchecker recognizes 'Ziggy' but not 'Leah's.' Weird. But whatever.