i want to do everything, so i do nothing

For as long as I can remember, I’ve never known what to do. Some part of me thinks I could settle into living in a nice enough house, take care of my children, and practice endless hobbies. Another part of me knows that will never satisfy my soul that yearns to live in Europe and continue to travel, to make a living writing movies, directing them, and being paid lavishly to illustrate my thoughts—to bounce between fame, fortune, and homeliness. Another small part of me thinks I could be content only writing. A writer in NYC if I'm overly lucky, SF if I’m more realistic, or the outskirts if I never win. I’d write in my home office and receive a comfortable wage to be considered a successful writer. Perhaps I’d even attain a niche popularity almost akin to fame. But there’s always the conundrum of my degree: Film and Television Media. Maybe that will always haunt me. Or maybe, like so many people say, it’ll never matter.