Usually, I feel like an idiot when people have something deep and meaningful to say about the world around them. But other times, I feel a little bit embarrassed for them, a little bit sad that they can’t enjoy simplistic things, that they have to sense a higher level of meaning in order to accept it on their so-called “intellectual” level.

Why people try so hard to come off as intelligent, is no riddle. We all want to impress, and we all have our dignity and pride to protect, or in some cases, to force upon others so as to recognize their brilliance. A joy to be around egocentric people, isn’t it?

Even now, I’m doing it, I’m talking about this as if I know all about it. And I feel like the worst sort of hypocrite. I wish I could go on, feeling like I don’t have to impress, but it’s what drives me most of the time. It’s what messes me up, too.

For art, one person walked into my room and exclaimed that he could understand my point of view. I don’t understand what he means. I look at my paintings, and even I don’t get any sort of reflective viewpoint. I don’t get it. Maybe there is something, that I don’t see, but others can. Or maybe they’re lying to me, and only saying they “see” something because they think it was my intention for anyone viewing them to “see” something. Art makes no sense, and I don’t think anyone will ever grasp it completely. To me, it’s like the concept of god or religion, it’s something no one can completely understand, something that will have an unsolvable mystery to it.

I don’t know what prompted this entry. A mix of disappointment, sadness, yet relief and happiness. Things will improve. What ‘things’? I have no idea, just enjoy that statement as it is, there is no deeper meaning hiding underneath it.