The three gunas form a sort of treadmill. The sattva has a short half-life it decays into equal measures of the other two. Rajas burns up in fits of passion yielding tamasic ashes which accumulate together with the other products of decay and would drown you if they didn't prompt a sort of reflex ginnying up of desire, the soul's drug of preference, rajasic intoxication, a fraction of which allows itself to be transformed into sattva and the rest into colourful chaos. How well you know that moment of flicking the nothing of passivity into the something of intent want. (You can see this in others more clearly than in yourself.) And so it goes around and around. So, what you believe in is stimulus, is the state of being stimulated, regardless of its apparent goal. This is basically a love of pleasure, with more or less of a pretension to refinement. And isn't your patchy intellectuality, your love, your humour, your aesthetics, just this kind of gourmandising?