I

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applejuicewerewolf:

amusementforme:

bonus:

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He literally went back into the closet

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rebelgirlmatrix1213:

vieratheartist:

canislondon:

​WHAT THE HECK IS THE LAST ONE

Okay THIS is my favorite Tumblr post.

OH MY GOD

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paulsimonsass69:

curseworm:

curseworm:

catholic school speedrun

during the first liturgy if you slap the communion wine out of the priests hands and collapse at his feet hollering in tongues you can clip right through the floor and go straight to hell

funny story when my dad was in catholic school the teacher said “the only true swear word is the lord’s name in vain” and my dad replied “so does that mean you can say ass” so he got whipped with a ruler

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Don’t ask someone with dementia if they “know your name” or “remember you”

pouchrat:

dementia-by-day:

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If I can, I always opt to ditch my name tag in a dementia care environment. I let my friends with dementia decide what my name is: I’ve been Susan, Gwendolyn, and various peoples’ kids. I’ve been so many identities to my residents, too: a coworker, a boss, a student, a sibling, a friend from home, and more. 

Don’t ask your friend with dementia if they “remember your name” — especially if that person is your parent, spouse, or other family member. It’s quite likely to embarrass them if they can’t place you, and, frankly, it doesn’t really matter what your name is. What matters is how they feel about you.

Here’s my absolute favorite story about what I call, “Timeline Confusion”:

Alicia danced down the hallway, both hands steadily on her walker. She moved her hips from side to side, singing a little song, and smiled at everyone she passed. Her son, Nick, was walking next to her.

Nick was probably one of the best caregivers I’d ever met. It wasn’t just that he visited his mother often, it was how he visited her. He was patient and kind—really, he just understood dementia care. He got it.

Alicia was what I like to call, “pleasantly confused.” She thought it was a different year than it was, liked to sing and dance, and generally enjoyed her life.

One day, I approached the pair as they walked quietly down the hall. Alicia smiled and nodded at everyone she passed, sometimes whispering a, “How do you do!”

“Hey, Alicia,” I said. “We’re having a piano player come in to sing and play music for us. Would you like to come listen?”

“Ah, yes!” she smiled back. “My husband is a great singer,” she said, motioning to her son.

Nick smiled and did not correct her. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and said to me, “We’ll be over there soon.”

I saw Nick again a few minutes later while his mom was occupied with some other residents. “Nick,” I said. “Does your mom usually think that you’re her husband?”

Nick said something that I’ll never forget.

“Sometimes I’m me, sometimes I’m my brother, sometimes I’m my dad, and sometimes I’m just a friend. But she always knows that she loves me,” he smiled.

Nick had nailed it. He understood that, because his mom thought it was 1960, she would have trouble placing him on a timeline.

He knew that his mom recognized him and he knew that she loved him. However, because of her dementia, she thought it was a different year. And, in that year, he would’ve been a teenager.

Using context clues (however mixed up the clues were) Alicia had determined that Nick was her husband: he was the right age, he sure sounded and looked like her husband, and she believed that her son was a young man.

This is the concept that I like to call timeline confusion. It’s not that your loved one doesn’t recognize you, it’s that they can’t place you on a timeline.

What matters is how they feel about you. Not your name or your exact identity.

[image: analog clock set to 7:59]

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theonlyjelly-iwillput-inmybelly:

pocketss:

pocketss:

it’s just one of those croissant days

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we love a recovery

AWW HE MAKING CROISSANTS

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traggotry:

Imo the “bad boy who’s only nice secretly/after you get through his layers” trope in media functions as propaganda designed to get you to second guess yourself and your experiences in order to give bad men a chance. Some things need to be taken at face value and if he treats people like shit he is in fact a bad person even if he’s nice to you sometimes. Stop looking for hidden meaning and depth in his actions. He’s not misunderstood he’s just an asshole and it’s not your job to shovel through the shit to get to the disappointing “good” parts

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opal-october:

my little house on a hill in the rainy, foggy pacific northwest winter

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coolhiroaki:

Adrien Agreste, Miraculous Ladybug: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir (2015-)

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nevver:

The Constellations of Summer, Francesco Levy

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#sky  #star  

thetypewriterdaily:

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instagram :thetypewriterdaily

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