Well ... a couple of years ago facebook was a bustle with the "20 things about me" post. Can we get more narcisstic? It's bad enough that we all feel the need to constantly let the rest of our "facebook family" know exactly how much more fun or exactly how much rougher (woe is always me) our life is than theirs, but now we had the opportunity to post a link where we can write all about ourselves for 20 wonderful sentences. (or more than that if you can figure out how to write multiple sentences about each of your *special* attributes, I certainly did on a number of occasions. score!) I constructed my 20 wonderfully unique things about me, just knowing my 400 friends ... er, acquaintances ... er, people I've met once or so ... simply couldn't get through life without knowing. Then people started commenting on them. I wanted people to enjoy my post, but I didn't feel the need for people to comment on it. Well then why post, if not for the gratification, I'm not sure. The same pulsating need we all need, thus our facebook status updates, our tweets, our blogs, our loud iphone chats, to feel alive. To make sure the people around us, friends or randoms, know that our life is oh so great! My aunt commented, telling me, "you're so funny, you should write more often." The only reason I could possibly be funny, ever in my writing, is because I tend to write how I speak. And I get quite a lot of laughs when I speak. Though I'm pretty sure it's because my friends are usually making fun of the awkward way I think and speak, rather than the content of my speech. But since, like everyone else these days, I seem to like to talk, or write, about myself, I figured I needed a blog. I started one years ago. It sits on some website (I do not remember the url), holding some Wizard of Oz themed blog name hostage, with maybe one post, probably complaining about my life. I tend to that more than to talk about how great my life is. (It must be understood that I have a simply blessed life that I would never trade and am everyday grateful for because I always know that it can be so much worse than it is, but as I am a middle class American girl, I tend to complain, get over it.) But this new blog shall be different. A new start. Maybe you will read it and roll your eyes and say "this girl has no clue what she is talking about or she is so stupid or not funny (not trying to be thanks!) or is totally self involved", but I do not care. Then stop reading my blog :). I'm not trying to be Julie Powell here and gain readers, nor am I trying to be the next blog to get pulled off the internet and onto a hot CBS time slot (though I would NOT be complaining if that happened, hear that CBS??) I simply need to put my words to paper, and doing it in a journal doesn't seem to be helping me solve my issues. So here they are.
Tink's Night Caps ... simply started because I have an intense insomnia problem that began many many years ago and has never really gone away. As a young child, I read no less than 30 Bernstein Bears books a night and would not go to bed until I finished them all each and every night. Thus, my rapidly decreasing eye sight (perhaps a good night light would have been better than a fading flashlight) and my inability to fall asleep before midnight. I can lay in bed as early as 9pm, but for as long as I can remember, I cannot fall asleep before 1am, earliest. As I lie in bed every night, my mind forms long essays, sooo, instead of becoming schizophrenic on top of being an insomniac, I shall blog my nighttime thoughts out. Genius, i know.
I think it must be said, before you become involved with me on a personal level, that I am what some call a Disney-a-holic. I love all things Disney. Why? Am i not old enough to understand that Disney is a money making machine who steals our money and gives children false hopes of being Princesses or Pirates and who employs a bunch of college aged kids who smoke and complain and despise their Disney happiness behind the magic gates? Why, yes, I am old enough to understand, I simply don't care. I will continue to pretend that Disney IS the happiest place on earth, that all the happy team members simply LOVE working in the happiest place on earth and that if you wish upon a star, your dreams come true. So no need for the Disney is the devil lectures. A couple of years ago, my husband nicknamed me Tink. Well i was just over the moon. My husband thinks i'm as cute as a lil fairy! When i thanked him for thinking so sweetly of me, he reminded me that Tink is a selfish little fairy who pouts grudgingly whenever she doesn't get her own way. Oy. (Ok thats probably pretty close to me too but ouch) (But also he thinks its cute (albeit slightly annoying) that i use my tiny stature (i pull in at a slight 5'1 and a half, i'm no snooki, but im below average on the height scale, fun sized i like to think of it as) to flit and weave in and out of crowds, thus passing all the slowpokes and i-dont-know-where-im-goings when in big crowds. Most of the time I end up loosing my much more average heighted husband, who cannot sneak in and out of people's personal space without getting clobbered, and he says "hey tink, im not fairy sized, you must wait up") But I also thinks he likes that calling me Tink causes me to call him Pan back and who doesnt want to be the boy that won't grow up and can run around screaming "BANGARANG!"
So here we are. Tink's Night Caps. I shall blog when I can't sleep. I shall share my inner most secrets. (Or my random thoughts on the day) I shall talk through my issues (being 27 and a half and married for 3 years but no kids! for Shame!) and entrust the lovely blogging world to hand me its advice. Bored by me you say? Stop reading :). I write for me anyways. (But if you're good I may include a yummy recipe for you to indulge in).
