u reblog all the best art and have great taste in memes
u strike me as the kind of person to use “ocean breeze” scented bodywash
ur in my top five favourite Hannibal blogs
okay i dont use ocean breeze bodywash but i do unironically love that smell how did you know are you in my walls?
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I'm gonna cover one of their songs someday and it's my motivation to pick banjo back up (normal sized and ukulele sized)
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Not gonna lie, I was thinking of you as I wrote about that. There’s just…a lot of shit wrapped up into culture that makes it so hard for anybody to assess. Your experience is quite a 1:1 on swedengate too, I feel like, on a very small scale. And like swedengate, I don’t think you or the teachers were able to (or even would have been able to) see into the purely cultural piece. None of the American teachers, despite being American, were able to explain the pledge of allegiance in that context, and all of them couldn’t help but like…basically take it personally. Which is the common outcome of culture clashes. Common outcome for anything we feel is contradicting or opposing our identity, really.
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( after school - a poem based on real life and dreams. please don’t reblog, but liking is fine. just sharing a part of myself online, which is not a great idea, but this is something meaningful to me. heh. )
Taking naps in the lounge, waiting for the bus to come around in the mornings.
The empty hallways, decorated with flyers and drawings, where I could hear my sneakers squeak against the polished floors.
Sitting with the other janitors in one of the rooms, watching Family Feud on the small television.
Sometimes getting those not so sweet gummy bears from one of the teachers, mostly to kill time until I go home with my dad.
I wonder why I dream of going to school, even though the last time I’ve been there was years ago.
When my dad was alive, healthy, and strong.
Always working, always cleaning.
I guess I just miss the past.
But yearning for something that is long gone, doesn’t help me focus on the now and future.
Especially since I’ve went through my own traumatic experience.
But the sentimental side of me can’t help but wonder how different things could had been, if he was still here.
Ah well.
No matter how often I cry, I got to keep going.
And besides, why do I want to go back to a time when I had to go to school, even though I never liked it?
No matter how hard working my dad is, surely he could had got tired of cleaning up after others at some point.
I will never really know, though.
Heh.
But I do admit, browsing the internet after school in the computer room was pretty cool.
And getting candy from my dad too.
He definitely spoiled me.
Ha!
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