Fickle, Fickle

I’m notoriously fickle.  I’m not just a little bit fickle; I’m fickle to a fault.  My husband spends a great deal of his time chuckling and shaking his head at my manic schemes.  I have to laugh at myself too, because I know how I sound going from extreme to extreme in the same breath.  After a recent whim I tried to come up with the reason I’m so wishy-washy, and I think I may have some ideas.

First I had to examine the things I am not fickle about.  I have a stable stance on my devotion to my marriage, and my goal to be a writer…everything else is negotiable, and I’ve narrowed it down to impatience.  I have a lot of goals, a lot of dreams, and a lot of roads to consider.  I’ve definitely travelled some of those roads, but others I’ve left unexplored.  Those are the ones that tap me on the shoulder from time to time.  They whisper to me, luring me with their scents, and directing me down rabbit trails.  I scurry away quickly, leaving behind whatever I was just sniffing at until I’m so far away I can’t remember where I came from.  This may explain why I’ve had several trips to more than one university, dabbled in lots of things to convince me not to write, and have battled with my husband to move us to a million different cities on a whim.  I’m certain that without him to ground me I wouldn’t own a home right now.  Instead I would be renting a shack on Mars, blaming my meager digs on being an artist of language.  I’m only very mildly exaggerating.  I have issues.

This isn’t going to be one of those times I have a beautiful revelation about my flaws, quickly find a way to justify them, then outline all the reasons my flaws will actually make my dream come true.  It is quite the contrary actually.  I spend a lot of time caught in a tornado I conjured up all by myself that I can’t get out of until I collapse from exhaustion.  However, I have figured it out to some degree.  I want everything.  I don’t want it tomorrow or the next day either.  I want every damn thing right damn now!  Therefore I put all my hopes, dreams, wants, needs, obligations, lifelines, and daily routines into a blender,  press start, then try to eat whatever comes out.  I just end up coughing up regret, fatigue, and anger.  To top it all off, I’m still starving because I’ve not been fed.  If only I knew to eat one at a time…

Now there is a second wrench.  I’m scared of being content.  I literally feel panicked if I don’t have an impossible goal on my plate teasing me.  I also can’t stand mediocrity, so try to be the best at whatever I do, even if the activities begin butting heads, and even if it’s not something I truly desire.  That’s when I get in trouble, drop the ball somewhere. and slide in on the seat of my pants to my newest wild fantasy.  On my way to Fickleville I take a little vacation in, “I just don’t know.”  Strangely enough, I’m quite decisive because spinning my wheels drives me crazy.  Therefore, I make a warp speed decision that I will boldly retract next month.  Such a success…

So I have challenged myself to finish what I’ve started.  That’s the only clear choice here, and I will have to do it in spite of my crazy nature.  That will be the impossible goal on my plate.  While I am still directing a children’s facility for my day job, I will continue to try to be a published writer, finish what little I have left of school online (one more shot!), and do whatever else floats my way in the meantime…but at least finishing what I start…that’s first in whatever little coping program I’ve created for myself…unless, of course, later I evaluate and change my mind.  Fickle, fickle.

2 thoughts on “Fickle, Fickle

  1. I loved this. Lorna you have such great insight into your own mind, and your own way of thinking. I love your expressions in this, they are so fresh and not the same old cliche’s about about changing your mind. I think you are going to do great things. You will accomplish much. And Change your mind about it a million times in the process. But you will suceed.

  2. Well said. I do the same thing. Whars funny about this is I only remember learning the word fickle somewhere in my thirtys. Some one said your Fickle and I did not know what the word ment so I looked it up, I have been labled ever since then. You know me I am the very meaning of Fickle. Thanks fot the reminder about myself and also their are others like me.

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