Problema

My mind can be an excited, busy place. If this sounds like fun, it sometimes is. I think it is preferable to a dull, cottony and empty mind. However, it has sometimes hindered --
ok, whatever. Forget the eloquent intro.
Here's the thing.
When I was younger, older people often seemed impressed by the clarity of my dream for Grown-Up Aaron. He would write and tell stories, possibly in the form of movies. It was what he wanted to do, it was what he would be good at, and sometime, somewhere, people might clap, and he would laugh jovially and shake their applause off with a humble wave of his hand and say "my work may be brilliant, but really, what's important is to love each other, you silly masses!" And the silly masses would clap some more. And somewhere, someone might be loved just a little more that night, as a result of Grown-Up Aaron's wise words. And it would be a circle of love and happiness and people would laugh, and there would be good movies and other Things That Are Good and Smart.
When I was younger, I figured that this would just be a simple progression from where I was at the time. Like most children with a dream, I don't think I had much of a conception of quite how much WORK it is to realize a dream. But more than that, I did not realize at all that it would mean making choices.
I have never liked making choices. I don't like giving up on something, and when you make a choice, you have to leave at least on possibility behind. I had a rather significant breakdown in eighth grade, when I made the decision to stop taking piano lessons. I didn't really LIKE taking piano lessons that much, and goodness knows I was not particularly GOOD at it for as long as I had been playing, so I had every reason to quit. But I still didn't like giving up the piano. And every once in great while, I'll STILL wish I'd stuck with it.
I wish that I could do and know everything!
Doesn't everyone?
The problem is that at this point in my life I have very few attachments or obligations, and I really can do just about anything. I could re-learn how to play the piano. I could take yoga. I could study history. I could spend a summer in Alaska. I could become a journalist, a photographer, a teacher. I could go globe-trotting. I could join a mission team and go to the third world. I could write comic books, write screenplays, write novels, make movies, start charities.
And at some point during the day I will feel totally certain that any dozen of my infinite possibilities are what I should concentrate on. I've lost track of how many brilliant projects I've sworn to myself that I would dedicate February towards.
But I can't make up my mind. I am habitually dreaming up more and more brilliant futures that seem more important that what I had previously planned to pursue.
This, of course, is quite self-defeating:
Because I don't want to waste my time on anything that won't work out, I end up wasting on ten thousand things that will never work out.

Clearly, I need to stop listening to myself.
But I talk just so darn loud!!