As part of my job, I regularly travel and over the last couple of years or so, I've been traveling pretty often. I've had the privilege to travel pretty widely across the US and abroad and I fully know how fortunate I am to have this opportunity. While sometimes exhausting, it's a perk for me to get to go to some pretty cool places, meet a variety of people, and see and do some amazing things. I've also broadened my personal travel, largely due to the overall comfort level I've developed with travel in general, thanks to my job. Like lots of other people, I post pics to social media here and there of my travels and I'm sure it can look quite glamorous at times. Being totally honest, sometimes it is. 🙂 I've been to some exceptional restaurants where I have enjoyed some spectacular meals. I've embraced the notion of trying all sorts of new foods and most of it has been delicious. I've picked up phrases and bits in all sorts of other languages (jack of all trades, master of none), learned things about various cultures, and best of all, I have had many incredible experiences and seen many iconic/historic/inspiring things. Like the Colosseum and other antiquities in Rome, the Parthenon and the Acropolis in Athens, the Eiffel Tower and so much more in Paris, the beaches where we stormed the shore on D-Day in WWII, the Empire State Building, the wonders of Yellowstone National Park, the beaches of Hawaii, Big Ben and Windsor Palace in England, the Liberty Bell, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Anne Frank's house in Amsterdam. As incredible as those experiences and sights have been, the process of getting to and from these places is anything but glamorous. Whoever said "getting there is half the fun" never had to fly smushed up in an economy seat for 9+ hours. For me, being there (or being back home) is 100% of the fun. Getting there and back is just a necessary evil until we invent a better form of travel. The writer thinks that others on social media: - would not like to do the same work - admire his work - not enough information - do not appreciate his work
admire his work

"Please remember me to myself!" When sliding toward mania in 2016, I begged this of my therapist. He cocked his head. "What do you mean?" I had no ideaon a conscious levelwhat I was asking for, just that I felt in a desperate sense that the self I knew was slipping away. An inability to recognize myself either in my writing or in reflecting upon my own actions was taking over. And then? I didn't care. I wanted to kiss girls. Which is finejust not something I ordinarily do. I wanted to drink, smoke. Again, finebut not something I ordinarily do. "Do I seemokay?" I asked a colleague at work. A woman I barely knew. Insanely, I thought that since she worked with disabled students, many of whom struggled with mental illness, she would know mania when she saw it. This was a rather foolish assumptionespecially since she's an educator, not a psychiatrist, especially with how skilled I am at wearing the mask of calm, the face of sanity. "You seem great, Julie. Cheery. Professional as always." I let her reassurance placate me. Wanted to be placated. Yet, within months I lost my job. And not only that, but a chance at a scholarship, two really important long term friendshipsrelationships I'd enjoyed since high school. I was hospitalized three times between September and February. I lost my ability to trust myself, lost my mind. It is now a little over two years since I first felt that sliding. Twenty-six months since I knew that somewhere in the deepest parts of who I am, I was slipping. Nine seasons since I begged Dr. Poe, "Remember me to myself!" I'm still recuperating. Yes. I have felt like I wasn't me. Why did Julie ask the doctor to remind her of herself? - She had amnesia. - She was feeling manic. - She had split personality disorder. - not enough information
She was feeling manic.

Much like the Grand Old Duke of York, who had ten thousand men and marched them up to the top of the hill, and then marched them down again, I can't get enough of York (because he visited repeatedly, that was obvious, right?) Having visited nearly half a dozen times over the years, and somehow not managing to share it on my blog over the years, I would say that although you could visit from London for the day, I wouldn't. Go for a minimum of an overnight stay, or a few days if you can. Witness a misty morning, and a candy coloured sunset, wander out into the Dales or slip in a seaside visit somewhere like Scarborough, and really get to know the ancient city. Alas, I haven't really learned how to take my own advice, but hot on the end of a family visit in Lincolnshire we were lucky enough to spend sometime with one of my favourite expats on Yorkshire (ok, ok, I only know two, but they are definitely in the top two of that limited ranking system). It was of course Amanda, her fabulous husband Sam and we got to meet their gorgeous new addition to the family, a mischevious Dachshund pup who goes by the name of Harold. Instagram was alive with "OOOOOOOH MY GOD YOU GOT TO MEET HAROLLLLLD" Forget being a rockstar in this day and age, puppy dog eyes are all you need to make ladies weep and then squeal into their keyboards. We tumbled off the train, cheeks ruddy from the fresh the North Sea breezes (fresh from visiting the Seal colony with a litany of pups at Donna Nook, and nibbling fish and chips with the family in Cleethorpes) and went wandering. I'm going to make a big claim here if you're travelling through the UK and can only fit in one city visit outside of London, York or perhaps Bath would be excellent choices. Compact enough to really explore, full of ancient buildings and history, and good cake. What more do you even need? In the future, the author will probably - visit London again - visit York again - visit Lincolnshire again - not enough information
visit York again

One summer when I was 8 years old my father, mother, and I were rear ended by a 16 year old boy in a pickup truck. Insurance companies dawdled and by the time we received a settlement over a year later my parents had divorced. I was under full custody of my father living in a trailer in very rural Tennessee (Wayne County) with no electricity and a wood burning stove for heat. My mother was nowhere to be found until a few years later. We received the settlement and it turned out to be several thousand dollars. My dad turned on the electricity and bought our first computer, a Packard Bell. Now we needed dial up internet! -My what a change! Then he started dating online. He met a woman who lived in Franklin, TN (Williamson County), dated and married her (at least for a few years), worked at CompUSA for a few years, then started his own computer repair business which he and I ran from 2001 to 2014 before selling it. Williamson County population : 226,257 Wayne County population : 16,583 I ran a business with my father, graduated from a high school that was ranked 24/273 instead of one ranked of 223/273 in the state. The woman I married would not be the same, nor where I live and the lifestyle I now live, the jobs I have been able to get, the places I have been able to go, traveling around the US and to Canada and soon further abroad. The amazing things that I have experienced in my life are a pretty direct effect of some 16 year old kid not paying attention and rear ending my family. Of course certain decisions were made and things happened that took things down this particular path, but it all leads back to that night. Good night, and drive safely! Where did the father meet another woman? - At his former CompUSA company - not enough information - At an Online platform - At his computer repair shop
At an Online platform