Reflection

I realized, while scrubbing the kitchen sink clean of raw chicken juice, that I’m not a goal maker or goal achiever. I like to think that I am, but really I’m not. I used to contemplate resolutions and list out goals, but I never accomplished them so I only wound up depressed at my lack of ambition and my subsequent failure to produce. Yet….I FEEL like I need to be goal driven, ambitious, driven to succeed, to accomplish great things. I’m not content with being ordinary, yet I don’t have the ambition to be extraordinary. The problem as I see it is that I’m a consummate dilettante. I’m interested in too many potential life scenarios to commit to just one, or rather, be trapped by any one. If I get close to making a commitment to pursuing one particular dream, I can always talk myself out of it and into a different one. I don’t have enough passion for any one dream to get it off the ground. Should I be bothered by this or simply accept it?