The Rapunzel in limbo effect

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Here’s a confession for my zero strong fan base… this is not my first blog.

Oh no my dears, this is probably about the fourth. I start off strong with the whole introducing myself bit, because who doesn’t have verbal diarrhea when talking about themselves. By the third post I’m all out of juice. It’s so disheartening when you are only talking to yourself. I’m not sure how to reach out to other bloggers, how to become apart of the community. If anyone stumbles upon me and can lend a sista a hand, give me some tips y’all. I’m determined to persevere this time round. Even if that means yapping on to myself for 1000 entries.

So, what’s a girl to do when she has no readers and only herself to write about? Who knows? But I’m going to continue on like the crazy cat lady with no cats that I am.

Right now, I am a little lost. I mean, I am on the other side of the world living this bizarre life and I have no fricken idea what I’m doing or where I’m going. Has anyone seen the fabulous Disney movie Tangled? If you have not yet seen it, trust me – amazeballs. But that’s beside the point I’m trying to make here. There is a part in the film where Rapunzel finally breaks free from her tower. She’s on her way into town to see the lanterns and she is basically like prancing around screaming out ‘BEST. DAY. EVER’, 2 seconds later she is then crying ‘I’M A DESPICABLE PERSON’. It goes sort of like that for a while ‘I’M GOING BACK’….. ‘I’M NEVER GOING BACK’. That is basically me in a nut shell.

Today, I’ve had a bit of a Debbie Downer day. I got a phone call from a girlfriend at home and all I could think of is that I wanted to turn into Harry Potter and disaparate my shit back home. I’ve walked around in a funk ever since. And then tomorrow, who knows. I may want to wrap myself in a time pod where I never have to go home.

There are so many things I am excited about doing. I mean, in 3 days time I’m off to Greece. People would kill to be in my shoes and here I am whingeing and whining about wanting to be home so I can have a wardrobe to colour code once more…. (oh, you don’t do that – excuse my OCD for a moment).

My Dad suggested I write my goals out so I can work towards something again but I’m greedy. I want it all. As long as it’s fun of course. What’s a gal to do? Enjoy Greece I guess. Don’t you love how I write that like it’s hard. Thought’s on goals zero fan base..? I’m a believer in having an objective but I just don’t know what I’m trying to achieve here. World domination perhaps?

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By the way, nice to meet you…

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So how awkward is it to introduce yourself? Short answer. Very. Excuse me while I stare at the floor, fiddle with my hair and mumble through this. Except that in real life I do none of these things, I’m just writing them for dramatic effect. Totally worked huh?

I was named after my grandfather Daniel Francis who was never referred to as Daniel his entire life. He was always called Mick. But that’s another story. My name is Danielle Frances and I turned out to be the female. I think. Just kidding. I know.

You may have gathered from my name that my parents didn’t think things through. Not only was I named after a man, which is not normally what you would do to your bouncing baby girl but I am often nicknamed Dani Fanny (the nickname for Danielle obviously being Dani and the nickname for Frances is unfortunately Fanny). A name until recent years I would’ve total punched you in the arm for calling me. Now I find, like other characteristics you can’t change, it’s better to embrace. I met a girl named Gaynor recently, things could’ve been worse. Both my treasured niece and nephew call me Aunty Fanny. But it’s okay. Well, it’s okay except for when I take them out in public and they are screaming out ‘FANNY’ at the top of their lungs and while all the other responsible adults are giving me filthy looks. But they have their minds in the gutter, it’s all very innocent y’all.

I am 24 years old although I often have to think about it. I fear that when I reach 50 I will truly believe that I am only 34. Perhaps I will be stuck in my own fountain of youth. I hope so anyway.

I was married at 21 years old which is normally a recipe for disaster. But from what I have just written, you will know that I am not normal. I am extremely lucky. My husband Chris and I met in highschool and have been in a loving supportive relationship since we were both 17 years old. He is my best friend and the source of much happiness in my life. I steal all his jokes and sayings because basically he is awesome. You would think so if you met him.

Currently we are living in London but we both hail from a small town on the east coast (I think east, I hardly know left from right so don’t shoot me) in Australia. We originally planned on staying in London to work and travel but figured we would take the work out of the equation. What we decided to do instead was travel for 3 months before returning to our little armpit town to be total grown ups. We have visited I believe 12 countries while being over here and have Greece left to conquer before heading home to live with my amazing Grandmother.

My family are the most important people in my life and you will hear a great deal about them. They are kind of insane. I always imagined I would marry someone with a real normal, settled family but instead I married Chris and his family is also insane. Insane and absolutely friggen awesome. Who wants normal anyway? I’m pretty certain if you look up normal in the thesaurus you will also find the word boring.

Other things you should know about my is that I am obsessed with the Beatles (more specifically John Lennon), I have a tattoo that says imagine, I love reading books, long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Scratch the last two, I thought I was writing a dating blog for a moment. If you disagree that baby animals in buckets aren’t the cutest thing in the world you should not be reading this blog.

Before writing this post I read the ‘are you new here’ tab where it suggested I should outline what the hell I intend on writing in this blog. So here is it. Me, me and more me. My adventures, my opinions, my life. Because we all get to be narcissistic sometimes.

To quote the fabulous Bowie; I don’t know where I’m going, but I promise it won’t be boring.