Promises Schmomises

You may recall that, back in July, I sort of committed myself to writing a series of blogs about the chickens, (EastHenders….What’s Goin’ On?). Even at the time, aware of my remarkable and extremely frustrating tendency to suddenly lose interest in projects or activities that are momentarily overwhelming me with enthusiasm, I hinted that the series would only last as long as did my interest in producing it.

I am ashamed to say that my interest lasted only long enough to complete two episodes. The first 265 words of what was to be Episode Three have languished in draft form in the Post section of the site ‘dashboard’, untouched since last edited on 26 July. Every time I log in to add a new post, I see the untitled Draft of Damocles hanging over me, a haunting symbol of All the Things I Said I Would Do, But Never Did.

And there are just so many of them!

My erstwhile boss always used to say I should Promise Little, and Deliver Much. But even as I totally accepted the wisdom of this approach, I could not practise it. You see, the trouble is, that when I am caught up in the sheer, all-encompassing vitality of the Now, I truly and sincerely believe that the feeling of it will last forever, and that This Time, I will deliver on all the heartfelt promises I utter in the heat of The Moment.

But the sad truth is that, most of the time, I don’t. Within an hour, a day, a week, ( or sometimes, if I’m really lucky, a reasonable chunk of time like a month or two) my interest and enthusiasm drain away, like flat champagne down the Plughole of Passing Time. And promises made in the bubbles of the Instant loiter with intent, like disreputable thieves of positive self-regard.

And to make things worse, I am evidently a Very Slow Learner. A casualty of the recurrent victory of Hope over Experience. I would love to be able to sustain interest. To stick at something long enough to become an expert on it. To exhibit the admirable quality of Persistence. To persevere. To finish something that I have started. To stay and to Not Get Bored. To Abide.

But since I don’t, I have decided that I should at least make an effort to recognise and accept the reality of my fickleness, and to henceforth STOP MAKING PROMISES. If I have an idea, and follow it through, all well and good, and we can all be pleased.  And if I have an idea and then give up on it, in an overwhelm of Can’t-Be-Arsedness, so be it. And it will be better for everybody if I just shut up, stop mouthing-off about all the Things I Am Going To Do,  and keep my exciting, interesting, inspiring ideas to myself.

So, just before I embark on the post I was about to write about chickens, before I got side-tracked with this little bit of painful self-analysis, (and which will NOT be another episode of EastHenders), I would like to declare publicly that I hereby Vow to Never-Ever Promise to Do Anything, Ever Again.