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@holtzmannsdimple

Joan. 28. Lesbian. She/her. Dog mom. Musician. Espresso snob. Tired.
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My uncle is autistic so he has sensory sensitivities, and he's largely nonverbal so he can't tell you what those sensitivities Are, so what he does is, if you give him a shirt that is a bad texture, he goes and gets his scissors and he cuts it into tiny little pieces so no one can ever ask him to wear it ever again, and the thing is is that he is so totally right

This post is okay to rb and also if you are neurodivergent when you are In A Situation you are advised to think "is this when uncle matt would go and get the scissors" and if the answer is yes then it is time to put your foot down

everyone say thank you Uncle Matt for showing us the way

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argumate

so far when it comes to musicology all I can say is that if he sounds like a cocky little shit it's Mozart, if he sounds like an emo teenager it's Beethoven, if he sounds like he's eating pussy with an intensity that might kill someone it's Chopin, and if he sounds like he's jerking himself off with three hands it's Liszt.

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m-accost

If he sounds like a quirked up white boy it's Vivaldi, if he sounds like he's on Valium it's Haydn, if he sounds like he gets mad pussy it's Handel, if he sounds like the mind of God it's Bach

As a former music history tutor, I agree.

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b0nkcreat

i drew a horse from memory one like and i will reveal my beautiful boy to the world

my son philip he eats pencils and drinks paint

omg i did the same thing w a cow the other day .. i hope its ok that i introduced him maybe they can have a playdate. .?

oh my goodness gracious… yes of course

I think they should frolic together..

the world is so beautiful here

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Tummies are sexy and so are thick thighs and so is cellulite and so are stretch marks and so are uneven tiddies and so are love handles and

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reblogged

when i’m so anxious that i want to crawl out of my skin, you rub small circles on my back in the dark. when i don’t know why i’m crying, you pull me close and whisper prayers into my hair. when i’m being too sensitive, too needy, too much, you press your lips to my forehead and remind me that you love me anyway. we drive around unfamiliar cities with your hand on my thigh, we walk through beloved parks with our fingers interlocked. when I look at your mouth while we sit on a bench by the beach, you pull me in for a kiss. our love exists in and out of closed doors. we refuse to hide.

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in addition to the fact that people just have different natural rhythms, a big reason why we can’t seem to go to bed as early as we “should” is that nighttime is, for many of us, our safest and most fulfilling time of day. we don’t have to work, we won’t be contacted by bosses or insurance companies or collection agencies or other suffocating life business… we’re likely only to be contacted by our friends, or by no one at all. night time is release; it’s ours. we can rest or recreate. we can do things we actually want to do. who would choose to cut that short?? just to usher in the next morning when our lives are not our own again? nighttime is precious and nothing could be more normal than the desire to embrace this

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deluxeloy

So, y’all remember that post that said animals in urban areas slowly became nocturnal to avoid encounters with humans? Apparently that includes humans.

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amygdalae

grant me the serenity to kill you with a brick, the courage to kill you with a brick, and the wisdom to kill you with a brick. amen

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