This is why I'm lonely

Thank you, guestbook signers! You have made me happy. See how little it takes?

I feel I should write more about pickles to get the AdSense pickle ads back up. Not that they were particularly lucrative, but they had me entertained.

Still have the migraine, though I've been getting a few hours relief right after I take my meds, but I need more before I'm allowed more.

Being stuck inside all day, I spent a long time staring at MySpace, particularly people who graduated high school with me. It's amazing how many of them I don't remember and how many I'd forgotten about completely. I even came across the profile of one of my former best friends with whom I purposefully lost touch after he abandoned me in Rome. I figure most people mature some in six years, so it's worth recontacting him.
Another profile that caught my attention was a kid I didn't really know "back in the day." I only even started reading his profile because I was trying to place him. I knew who he was, but he hung out with the Future Sorority Sister-Types I always hated so I never gave him much thought. His profile is pure writerly-intellectual mentally-masturbatory BS. It's the kind of thing I might have written when I was in high school and first started screaming "I'M A WRITER" from whatever treetop I could find. Like a writer's version of the people who first came out of the closet at Oberlin in an explosion of promiscuity and phony affectation. It usually settles down after a year or so, becoming a more natural part of the personality, but it's a common phase nonetheless.
But my reaction to this profile thing is pretty frightening. I have to be above an intellectualist? I have to look at this person (who is clearly very smart and a writer and enjoys thinking for thought's sake) as immature? "Like, he's soooo me five minutes ago, or eight years ago, or whatever." Isn't that a shitload better than all the truly stupid people I spend most of my time snubbing? So maybe I should swallow my own BS and drop him a note. It's way less creepy than the MySpace total stranger and he's apparently living in River Forest again and maybe some mental masturbation would do me good. Still, I need to get over myself enough to write a note without it sounding like, "Awww, isn't that cute, you think now."