Bible Dipping - the cover

I'm sitting in bed...a friend woke me up with a phone call...there's a stuffed moogle and pikachu starring at me...I looked at the Seeing Sideways book and read the whole cover for the first time. I feel like the words hold meaning, and tell myself I understand them...when I realize it's more likely that I don't understand them at all. I want to write about the cover, but try to find a scapegoat by getting a "deeper", "easier to write about and prove I'm smarter" page in the book. And I just realized it's almost impossible to direct you to the page I opened. It's yellow...and has chopstick instructions at the binding. It talks a lot about great artists...musicians...tatoo-ists...all strangely of the asian variety. You know, I feel like that sometimes. When I draw I picture or write a poem...when I try to convey any message...it's like trying to direct you to a page in a numberless book...a page in my mind. Why does it take so much effort to express oneself? Should it be that way? I can see it from the "labor of love" angle and the "free your mind" angle. Time never answers life's questions until it's over. I guess another thing that erks me is why I want you to know whats in my head anyway...IT DRIVES ME! And, to an extent I don't even know why. Yes, I care about your wellbeing and such...but it's not that I can suddenly give you peace...it's more like I'm a child who has a pretty picture that looks like crap, but really wants to show it to someone. I want you to smile. I want love in return. I want an excuse for why I want affection in some form reciprocated...but I have none that justify it being...typed.
My mind paused. Why do I write to "you"? I was skimming that first half and wondered who "you" was. Yeah, I'm writing to the whole class/teacher, but I'm not imagining you and your reaction like I would with a paper for W131. To a degree, it feels like I'm writing to my mind...I won't type anything down until it is satisfactory to me...and yet I'll give up and just splotch anything down randomly. I'm not an artist. I'm a person. This is it so far, I need to get in the shower now...brb
Okay, so now I'm sitting here with a bowl of cereal. Raisin Bran Crunch...the best ever cereal. Showers are good for thinking. I find I can get frustrated easily because I personalize everything. And I feel like normal people don't do this - like they get some aspect of life that enables them to not care about eachother. But truth is, I love to take things to a deeper level...and if I'm sitting over in a corner staring at a tiny acorn, pondering it's existence, while everyone else is gazing at the forest...so be it.
My brother just came home with a double-decker from tacobell for me and I didn't even ask for it...raisins and beans...that's a lovely combo.
So, why is there hatred and bitterness in the world? Everyone thinks differently. I would come over and look at your forest, but I'm still engrossed by an acorn. How about we have dinner later and you can tell me what you find beautiful, and I'll share mine. We won't change each other's minds; but the next time you look at a forest, or I look at an acorn...we'll think of something different. And then, just maybe, we'll get somewhere.