Giving myself the challenge of posting a different foreign travel picture on Instagram is having its intended result: it's making me go through the thousands of picture that I have squirrelled away. My immediate goal is to figure out the best ones so that I can print them off and frame them, although, as I said previously, I'm rapidly running out of wall space. It's so pointless to have all of these pictures hiding away, and even if I don't print off that many it's nice/important/essential/cathartic to look at them. Sometimes I find myself surprised - in that I don't remember ever going to a place, even though I apparently thought enough of it at that time to devote a lot of photographic evidence to it. Sometimes the pictures make me happy and sometimes they make me sad. The picture below, of Hong Kong, just makes me hate myself all the more (if that's possible).I had a wonderful offer from a first rate university - a position that would have formed the nature high point of my academic career - but I turned it down. I said no because of love and lies, but also because of fear and self-doubt. In the end I didn't have enough confidence in myself, either professionally or emotionally - essentially, on both fronts, that I didn't deserve it.
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