I hate inspiration

Sometimes I sincerely hate my moments of inspiration. They come at a time when I've already carved out a plan for myself and nag at my brain until I pay them attention. So I do. I drop everything else. I think about them, research them, and imagine how to use them. I let them fill me. I get put on an emotional high as I discover, learn, and fantasize. I even begin the journey and start accomplishing goals toward it. I think, "This is it. This is what I want and I'm not going to let anything change my mind." However, after a month or two, they die away. It isn't because the task gets hard, but more like I lose motivation. The interest simply disappears like it was never there. During the transition, I feel empty and directionless. Or I feel angst and confusion. My life rhythm seems to be that of short-lived flames: I light up with one idea after the next, throwing myself into them, and then exhausting myself shortly after. It is times like these that I wish I lacked imagination. I'm tired of the rollercoaster...though I think I let myself get on. I don't want to be like people I know who start and stop and never get anywhere. Granted, I seem to be making a decent average career for myself in Higher Education Administration, so it's not like I'm scattered and broke.