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Joined 1 year ago
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Cake day: July 3rd, 2023

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  • The con for me is that each individual school interprets the concept in their own way with no oversight. The one I was looking into for my kid many years ago was so strict with their rules it was scary. We did a trial day with my kid and we were instructed to not eat anything in the morning because breakfast is a very important part of the start of the day.

    Breakfast prep with all the serving, singing and saying gratitudes took almost an hour, for a bunch of very small kids some of which had to get up at 5 am so that they could make it to school on time. It was excruciating to watch and they were clearly very hungry.

    This ceremony approach continued through the rest of the day, with every little thing taking a lot of time and every kid was expected to religiously play along. It was enough for me to nope out and I didn’t look into it anymore.




  • I dream every night and it is always some kind of a crazy bizarre acid trip that may morph into a nightmare on occasion if I had a bad day or something is weighing on my mind. I’ve had this all my life and sometimes when I don’t dream (which is extremely rare for me) it feels weird waking up.

    But that’s the regular stuff, the insane stuff is that I have dreams that reoccur and evolve for decades, and it’s like getting a new season of a show that you watched two years ago, but with new characters and plot lines.









  • I was born in USSR and it collapsed when I was seven so my memories of it were at the very end when things were tough and scarce. I remember school books that were still about Lenin and Stalin, and we would write essays about Labor day parades and red hammer-and-sickle flags during our English classes, it sounded funny even for us first graders.

    Yet, whatever little was available was cheap, we would have deficit problems but not financial ones unless you were trying to buy something that was smuggled into the country, like jeans.

    We would take flights to Kazakhstan where my grandma lived, no borders no visas obviously. They lived on their own land there and were much better off in terms of food availability (Google USSR deficit to see what stores looked like).

    Then we reached the point when food stamps had to be distributed and it was outright scary. I remember standing by our front door crying, because my mom gave me a bread stamp and sent me to get some bread, and I lost the stamp on the way and couldn’t bring myself to go back home. Eventually I was absent long enough for her to start worrying and she opened the door to go out and found me there sobbing.