The Brain Age

I've done this. You've probably done this too. You want something. You think it's perfect for you, whatever it is. Then one of two things happen; one, you get disappointed if you don't get it, or two, you go into panic mode when you realize that if you do get it, it might be the biggest mistake ever, and you start praying not to get it.

That my friends, is what I call the "Brain Age" -when the brain goes from being a toddler (I want that, and that, and that) to adult ("I don't really need that, but would have liked it", or "what the heck was I thinking?!?")

That happened to me just this past month. Twice.

The first time was about my book. Not only did I have one agent interested, I had two- and both in the same agency. I was ecstatic. Imagine me, some newbie wannabe author snagging two agents in the same company? Oh baby, I was headed for the bookstores. I sent my proposals in the hopes of getting the interest of at least one of the agents.

Agent number one wasn't interested and asked if I could write about being a housewife. I was disappointed, but at least she thought I had potential, since she wanted to see me write about the grand and glorious lifestyle of the domestic artisan. I made a notation to gather information to write a housewifey book, and waited for agent number two to contact me.

A week later I received and email. It was a very nice email, telling me that my book was in too small a niche for him to sell. It was a book for women. He's a guy. And I had no idea women were becoming extinct. Ah well. At least he didn't think my book was moose drool. He liked my work, but he didn't feel he was the one to sell it. Fair enough.

So- They liked my writing, but it didn't fit their needs. I'm down, but not out. The potential is still there, which is good. Disappointing, but good.

Now for the second event. I was offered a chance to apply for a job. Full-time but temporary (a two month stint), it seemed perfect for me at the time. The phone interview went well, and I was slotted for a second interview face to face. I was going to nail this job- I just knew it.

The interview went well, up until he said a few "red flag" phrases like "Might be working Sundays", "Door to door four hours a day", and "Possibly every day if the numbers aren't met". It also didn't help that my hands would be deep within two events during the two months I was supposed to be working for them. One is a big community event I run (no second-in-command yet), and the second is a writer's conference I was destined to go to (lots of humorists). There was no way I was going to miss that sucker for anything.

It doesn't help that above the knee I'm not the fittest person on the planet- four hours of walking around strange neighborhoods? I might need a new body when the job was over. I also wasn't wired like he wanted me to be. I had to have a smart phone and a web camera for Skyping- whatever that is.

The job I had so desperately prayed for was something I now prayed fervently against. What on earth was I thinking? Yes the money would have been good- fantastic even- but at what other costs? It wasn't worth it to me to neglect my family, run myself ragged and jeopardize my writing career for extra cash.

God must have known this because I didn't hear a word from the guy since. Apparently I didn't get the job. It would have been nice if he'd at least called or emailed on that fancy smart phone he was brandishing about during the interview. Ah well. Maybe I ought to go into customer service as a coach instead.

My toddler brain is still mad that it didn't get what it wanted. But the adult brain just gave it something shiny by telling it "Psst- we still have the conference, and a lot of awesome people to meet!" and the toddler mind took that in both hands and is in a corner somewhere, hoarding it's precious trinket.

By now I've learned to pray that God's will be done, because my will ain't worth a burnt hot dog if what I want isn't meant for me- even if I think it is. God has better plans for me anyway. He just doesn't tell me because He knows the toddler brain will whine and cry and yank on his sleeve asking "Now? now? How about now?"