The title says it all.

This post is purely a public announcement to never write brilliant ideas on your hand if you bathe regularly…a metaphoric representation of my life… and in memoriam of the post that could have been.

I have no idea what the post was going to be, but it would have been Bible-worthy, probably.

Rest in peace, post of the century.

So it’s 3:06 a.m. and you still have another two hours AT LEAST of data science homework to finish (like, seriously? how is being able to use the manhattan formula to cluster types of wine ever going to fucking help me in life? sorry, I’m bitter and tired), and you check Spotify to see what your friends are listening to because it’s better than fighting with Excel and you need to feel some connection to a human in this desolate, virtual world.

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To your horror, all your closest pals – those who you’d take a bullet for, probably, or at least share your beer with – have abandoned you.

It’s a cold, dark feeling being left behind…you’re not sure what to do with yourself and you question if finishing data science is worth it at this point because cleaRLY NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU.

I hope you’re never the last of your Spotify friends to be awake doing homework, but on the bright side, I’m probably still awake, too.

Follow me on Spotify so you always have a friend! (RaePollock)

Hands on

Funny

Big

Expression

Deep

Shown to people im close to

Not sketching

Not painting

Not on a computer

Music // clothes

More

Writing isnt enough

Bigger think bigger

Different be different

Make something

Spend time on it

A movie

A video

Yes

Image

Make people take notice

I recently babysat my friend’s new kitten and the little ball of fur taught me a few things.

For one, it taught me that I still really hate cats. Don’t let this picture fool you. I don’t care how cute a cat is, it doesn’t take away from the fact that it shits in a box and eats slop that smells worse than a dumpster.

This kitten also taught me that I like going back to things that hurt me. This cat had claws similar to tiny straws sharpened with an x-acto knife: not too sharp, but not something I want to rake across my skin 500 times.

This kitten, his name is Connor, clawed me every single time I picked him up. As soon as he’d claw me, I’d get pissed off and set him down and do something else. Then, five minutes later, I’d want to pick him up again (he’s really cute, okay!?)

I don’t care how much you hate cats, he’s really freaking cute.

So anyway, he’d claw the shit out of my arm and then I’d come back and try to cuddle with him five minutes later.

This is reasonable with a cat because a cat can be an asshole and not cause horrible emotional damage.

People, though, definitely can.

I recently finally got myself out of a toxic relationship. For months, this kid would scratch the shit out of my arm and then I’d come crawling back (he was also really cute, for the record.)

This is the same concept what happened between me and the little kitten, but let me tell you the scars caused by Connor were nothing in comparison by the ones caused by this boy.

If someone doesn’t treat you right, then don’t keep going back. It may be hard to resist his pretty blue eyes and soft fur (wait, am I talking about cats or people?), but, for your own safety and wellbeing, you have to.

It’ll hurt more than anything at the time, but you’ll be stronger and better off in the long run.

Who wants to be around someone who gives you scars, anyway?

Cats, too. Who wants to be around cats? They’re the actual worst.

I never wanted this blog to be a diary or a journal. No one cares about that stuff.

This post might begin to sound like a journal entry at first, but stick with me.

This past week has been awesome. I got a job I wanted and I was only stuck in dehabilitating  thoughts about my ex for a fraction of the time I have been before this week. I spent this past week pushing the bad out of my head and doing everything in my power to focus on what and who makes me happy.

I started hanging out with different groups of people. I put myself in situations where I felt on edge and out of place and I talked to people who I’ve always seen on campus but I assumed they hated me for some reason. Basically, I went outside my comfort zone, which is a place I haven’t been in a long time.

Going outside my comfort zone was thrilling and lead me to different things that I would have missed out on had I stayed in bed all weekend because my roommate was gone (which is what I usually do.)

But everyone knows that can happen when you try new things. And it just so happened that trying new things was a really positive experience this time around, which is great. So life was good.

And when life was good, I stopped blogging.

This may not sound like a big deal because I stop blogging all the time (I’m not the most consistent of people, if you haven’t noticed), but I stopped blogging for a different reason.

Usually I don’t blog because I have too much going on with school or I drink too much that weekend, but this time I didn’t blog because I was happy.

I was lying in bed just now at 1:25 in the morning, and I realized that. And it was such a cripplingly sad realization.

“Why? Who gives a shit?”

I only blog when I’m sad. Or, rather, I used to only blog when I was sad (because I’m going to change that), which is so completely terrible because when I’m sad I think a lot and I want to remember the realizations I’m coming to. This in itself isn’t a bad thing, but I have all these blog posts and documentations of my sad thoughts and I don’t have any from when I’m happy.

“I want to focus on the things that make my heart race and make me smile without thinking”

Sure, happy people probably don’t have time to blog while those stuck in clouds of sadness have nothing but time to complain, but blogging makes me happy and I want to make time for it in the happiest of times.

I realize the theme of my blog is kind of depressing because in general I’m a kind of sad person, and I’m not trying to change that about myself. I just want to change what I remember about these years of my life.

I want to focus on the things that make my heart race and make me smile without thinking, like the feelings and thoughts running through my head when I got the job I’d wanted, instead of dwelling on the deep, dark things running through my head.

Does that make sense? The dark things will always be present, and I want to learn from them because I think they’re really rich in content, but I want to remember and live and breathe the positive things. And that’s so goddamn important and so goddamn easy to lose sight of.

I think people are really dramatic and sad and deep and it’s unnecessary. We should be focusing on what gives us life, and not what tears us closer to death.

If you’ve been wondering what the playlist version of this blog would be, then you’re in luck!

This is a compilation of songs that I’ve been collecting for a few months now, and I update it all the time with more songs that I think embody “triangles and tree rings.”

This playlist has fairly slow electronic music that allows you to think while you’re listening to it. Whether you’re thinking about triangles or tree rings or how badly you want Chipotle right now, that’s what this playlist is for.

You know how people always wish on eye lashes? Because that makes sense? I don’t know if I believe that wishing on eye lashes does anything, yet every single time I have an eye lash, I wish on it. And every single time I have an eye lash, I wish for the same exact thing.

“I wish I can be happy all by myself.”

I’ve said before that I think human interaction is the reason behind life and it’s what makes everything worthwhile, but I don’t think we should depend on another human for our personal happiness.

Being a 19-year-old girl, I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak. And it sucks. I was recently so intertwined with this guy to the point where I lost myself. I’m not exaggerating when I say I would have done (and would still do, if I’m being honest) anything for him. My happiness depended solely on how his day was going and how much he texted me back and how happy he was, and it made me sick. Physically sick, even, like I had a cold for three months.

My infatuation with him spiked my depression and worsened my anxiety to a new place – a place I’d never been. Not necessarily a new low per se, but a new place entirely because at least when I was at my lowest point before, I was there because of myself. This new place, though, was because of him – or so I thought. It was because of him because he existed, but it was more so because of the power I gave him over me.

“I wish I can be happy all by myself.”

I’m not trying to tell you the story of how I got my heart broken. No one wants to hear that story. I’m trying to tell you that you should be careful what you wish for on your eye lashes.

When I was with this boy, I would wish on every single eye lash that we would be happy together. I wished this because it was all I cared about – he was all I cared about, which meant I was putting him before myself and my happiness. I never want to be in the place I was in because of him again. I never want to be that weak again.

Don’t mistake vulnerability for weakness, either. I think allowing yourself to be vulnerable is one of the strongest things you can do! But there’s a huge, huge difference. I’m still learning the line between the two, so I can’t really speak on it.

So, instead of getting your heart broken in order to learn this lesson, take it from me: be happy all by yourself, and don’t depend on anyone else to make you happy. You know what they say, “don’t put your happiness in someone else because they can take it away,” and “they” are so right.

Kidding.

I was sitting in class today and the kid next to me sneezed (it was not cute – let me tell ya), and I instinctively, without even thinking, said “bless you.”

About two minutes later, because I caught his disease, probably, I sneezed. And not one person in the class said “bless you.”

I know it sounds silly, but that one sneeze – that one sharp moment in time – taught me about people: I realized that it doesn’t matter how many times I say “bless you” to the kid next to me, he’s not going to say it to me unless he wants to.

Why am I talking about sneezes? Bear with me.

I always kinda thought that if you care about someone then they’d care about you, too. Because if you show kindness to someone, then they’ll reciprocate, because that’s what nice humans do, right? But my blessless sneeze showed me that just because I was nice to the f*cker who got me sick doesn’t mean he gives a shit about me. This kid was too caught up in his life that I didn’t even register on his radar – which is fine – but I can’t walk around thinking that everyone or anyone is focused on me, because they’re not.

Let’s take this to the bigger picture.

Just because you care about someone or love someone doesn’t mean they care about you. You can’t force people to care and you can’t expect them to always have you in mind. It’s a lesson in being mindful of others and not being completely stuck in your own ass, I think.

No matter how many people you bless when they sneeze, you might sneeze and have no one to bless you. People are selfish – don’t forget that because the moment you do, you get hurt. I know it sounds morbid and I don’t mean to be the downer here, but it’s true.

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t say “bless you” when someone sneezes, I’m just saying don’t expect anyone else to say it to you.

Also, it’s completely okay to say it to yourself if no one else will.