i don’t pretend to know what you want

When I started actively reading blogs, I wondered what on Earth I would write about if I had one.  Obviously, not much, as I haven’t posted in more than a year.  But a few weeks ago, I had a blogworthy experience and I thought of my brief little cyberspace haunt and decided it might be time to dust it off for a few moments of glory.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m an architect, who currently specializes in healthcare design for children.  As I’m pretty new to this specific design type, I’m eager to learn everything I can about healthcare.  Not hanging out in the ER on weekends eager, but pretty wide-eyed, nonetheless.  So, when I was recently offered the opportunity to tour a newly renovated children’s hospital with my current client, I was excited for the chance.

While on the tour, a portion of the group was offered a tour of the surgery suite.  Having never been in OR while awake, my curiosity overtook me and I eagerly volunteered to venture past the sacred sterile line, gown and all.  We got appropriately dressed and walked in through the double doors with all the warnings on them… thrilling!

We toured an empty OR.  It was filled with high-tech medical equipment and sanitized beyond belief.  It was my anal technophile husband’s dream come true.  It was fascinating.  So few architects have ever actually been into a space like this, though we design them all the time.  After we browsed and inspected, making sure not to touch anything, I assumed it was about time to meet up with the rest of the tour.  But then, the nurse leading us around said, “Dr. X has invited us into his case.”  

Into his case?
As in, into the operating room.
While he’s operating.
On a person.
Uh…

While I’m not squeamish, I wasn’t sure how I would handle this… it’s obviously something I don’t see sitting at my computer, pumping CAD all day.  After following the very specific instructions on how to maintain the sterile environment, I followed my seasoned tourmates (an anesthesiologist and two OR nurses) into the operating room.  Dr. X welcomed us warmly as he manipulated the implements in the child’s open wound… or at least the small square of skin that I assume had a child attached to it somewhere under the blue-green cloth.  He showed off the OR equipment… check out how this camera in the OR light zooms in… on the open wound.

Suddenly, I felt really hot.  And I think my pulse started to get kind of quick.  Actually, when I could clearly hear it pounding in my ears, it was really quick.  Oh crap, I realized I was going to pass out.

I stood there debating where the best place to do my faceplant was: in the OR, where all the doctors already were; in the Sub-Sterile Room, where no one would see me humiliate myself; or in the hallway, where a kind nurse might come to my aid.  As I thought through all of these options I realized I had to decide in the next 10 seconds… five seconds… come on… think.

And then, one of the nurses kind of tugs at her gown a little bit, and says, “man, it’s really hot in here.”  Wait a minute.  It’s just hot?  That’s all?  I’m not going to pass out?  And suddenly, my pulse slowed to normal, the color came back to my face, I could hear Dr. X speaking again.

Three minutes later, we thanked Dr. X for the tour, wished him well on his case and walked out the door, down the hallway and into the germ-filled world again.  Back to reality - boring as it may be.

I’m really not one of these people that has to have everything everyone I know has.  I drive an old car (14 years old with 263,000 miles), have pretty basic technological gadgets, live in a reasonably sized home.  Heck, I don’t even pay for cable.  Though we have our perks, for the most part, my husband and I live a relatively middle class life on our relatively middle class paychecks.

My neighbors, on the other hand, are a different story.  I live in a nice neighborhood where, apparently, everyone around me gets free checks in the mail every other Thursday.  While I feel like I’m really working for every penny, these folks just seem to have pennies to throw around at every occasion.  But, for the most part, I’m not bothered.

For the most part… I said.  I’ve recently discovered a subject of newfound neighbor envy: the flat-screen television set.  Now, I know it doesn’t sound like much… everyone’s got one, right?  But actually, my TV history has been pretty bleak in comparison to Mr. & Mrs. USA.  I grew up with two channels from a huge tower-mounted antennae in my back yard.  My sister and I had only ABC and *gasp* UPN.  When I went to college - no TV at all.  After college, we had a 13" TV, but it died, so we didn’t have anything for about 3 years.  Finally, now, I’m back to my 13" and a little cable.  Why is it then, that all of sudden, I’m looking at shelling out nearly a grand on a flat-screen LCD, albeit a little one?

It’s all my neighbors’ faults.

Where I’ve been happy with my 13", they’ve got 52" plasmas.  Where I thought cable was fine, they’ve all got satellite with TiVo.  Where I thought an hour here and there was great, they’ve got 80 hours of unwatched shows that their TV recorded for them, while they were out doing other things.

Sadly, I want it too!

I’m hoping my conscience will kick in at some point and remind me how much farther that $1,000 could go towards my 401K, my savings account or even a much needed vacation.  In the meantime, I’ll sit pining away for the one thing I think I want - that I know I don’t need.

I lead a pretty darn good life.

I have a good home.  A loft, if you’d like to be specific.  It’s nice and airy and is filled with things I love.

I have a good job, albeit a busy one.  I’m an architect and I work exclusively on healthcare for kids.  That’s got to be good, right?

I have good friends.  Really great friends, actually.  Friends who don’t mind that I ignore them for weeks at a time because my job keeps me so busy. 

I have a good family, who I talk to fairly regularly.  They gave me a good childhood, with nothing to blame them for in therapy. 

I have a good dog.  Actually, I have a really bad dog, who I love so much and spoil completely rotten.  If she’s bad, it’s entirely due to my poor parenting.  But sometimes she looks so cute you can’t help but think she’s good.

I have good neighbors - the best neighbors I’ve ever had in my life.  We spend ridiculous amounts of time together, doing absolutley nothing.  Seinfeld really starts to make sense.

Finally, I have a way above good husband.  He treats me like I am his reason for being and in return I love him more everyday, even though he has more ticks than a grandfather clock.

So, like I said, I have a good life. 

Good… but boring.  For weeks, as I started to discover the blogs of other people I knew, I wondered what I would write about if I had one.  Don’t get me wrong - there are little excitments everyday in my life: the $10 bill left in the pocket of my winter coat from last season; the new blooms on the trees on a cool winter day; the good meal; the funny movie; the satisfying nap.  They exist, they’re just not really any different than anyone else’s exciting moments.  There’s no fame and fortune.

But I still feel the desire to start this trek… as if I don’t have enough to do. 

Maybe you’ll like it… but I don’t pretend to know what you want. 

The incessant ramblings.
The eternal self-promotion.
The unrelenting ego fluffing.

The vicious cycle begins.
My blog is born.