Bernard O'Shea: Learning German and the piano... I had such big plans

Here are three examples of things I started, but never finished

'Decluttering is such a simple task that would immeasurably improve my life, but there’s a major catch. I become emotionally attached to stuff.'

I imagine myself as a Renaissance man: exploring new worlds, inventing new musical instruments, figuring out the universe’s complexities, and painting rich Florentine women. In reality, I’m a man who starts things and never finishes them.

I sometimes wish I could get a diagnosis for it. That way, I could tell my wife it’s a condition rather than being struck down by a force I cannot control.

It’s one of those adult hidden-shame secrets we keep in the far corner of our mind-closets.

When you’re a kid, you’ll easily tell the world you started guitar lessons but “prefer playing FIFA instead”. 

I spent at least 50% of my childhood playing under the great Brian Clough at Nottingham Forest. I had a fabulous career until I was 13. Then I mentally switched to playing guitar in real life, or, as the kids would say today, “IRL”.

But sadly, as we get older, daydreams just don’t cut it. We have to try to do the things we dream of, even if it feels foolish.

So what happens? Why do we start things and don’t finish them? I found an article on Psychology Today by Susan K. Perry, PhD. This quote punched me in the face: “Starting a new project is like falling in love. It’s exciting, emotionally arousing, and infused with the natural motivator of novelty.”

That’s me in a nutshell. I wine and dine my new hobbies and projects. I fall in love with them quickly. I imagine everything happening easily and quickly. Then comes the actual work part, and I drop off. Eventually I text my new beginnings, “Sorry, it’s not you, it’s me”.

I have more than an inkling, though, that most people could tick the shame box on one of the following unfulfilled life projects.

1: Learning a language

I dreamed about doing gigs in German. I was going to become a massive stand-up in Germany, taking an unusual slant: an Irish guy who loves all things weissbier and autobahns. I did it up until Junior Cert in secondary school and thought I could pick it back up again.

Like millions of others, my first port of call was Duolingo. I tried for six weeks, enticed by the romantic vision of me ordering food for a room full of people who were shocked and amazed — “Wow, Bernard, we never knew you could speak German?”

After a fully paid subscription and listening to German phrase books while falling asleep, my dream faded away without so much as a danke.

Surely, by now, Duolingo must know that they aren’t selling us language lessons, but the shattered dreams of who we thought we could be.

2: Learning a musical instrument

I can play the guitar and, given enough time, I probably could knock out a tune on the banjo and mandolin. But, later in life, I wanted to learn the piano.

I had no excuse. We have a piano in the house. Four music schools are within 15 minutes’ walk. Even if there wasn’t, there are a million and one lessons on YouTube. 

I imagined myself lazily playing beautiful jazz melodies as the mist slowly evaporated on the front lawn, while my family sipped flat whites and nodded in approval.

The reality is we use the piano for storage, and my kids generally kill each other in a gladiatorial-style game every morning.

3. Major decluttering

I began determined to throw everything out, then I discovered an old flip phone I bought for my father and spent an hour trying to charge it. By evening, the house, the garage, and my office were worse, and I became emotionally attached to several cables even though I didn’t know what they were used for.

Decluttering is such a simple task that would immeasurably improve my life, but there’s a major catch. The stuff I needed to throw out was the stuff of dreams. 

The adjustable weight set that was going to give me the body of a Greek god. The Pilates ball that was going to make me more flexible than a rubber band. 

The bread maker I bought to make homemade bread every day. The chess set I bought to improve my non-existent chess game. The runners, my God, the runners that were the kickstart I needed to finish my first marathon.

They and many more easily bought but never used items look back at me like a wet, angry, feral cat screaming down into the sore spot of my soul, “YOU WASTER”.

The problem is that every new hobby comes with shopping, generally online. I’m amazing at it. At buying equipment for unnecessary things that were fantastic ideas on paper but, dudes, in reality I could get a job in (insert any government department that has spent millions on idiotic purchases).

But maybe I’m already a Renaissance man. I’ve spread my dreams so thinly across so many disciplines that none of them is visible to the naked eye.

Essentially, my ability is there but yet to be discovered. I’ve always thought I could be an amazing carpenter. Ooooh, I bet I could buy a really good starter kit online.