I’m past patiently waiting, I’m passionately smashing every expectation

Anyone who knows me would tell you that making decisions is just one of those things I am absolutely awful at doing. I pawn it off onto others whenever I can (even when I sometimes I try to make it seem like I’m not).

george.jpg

like King George, I can be sneaky

“Am I making the right decision?”

I fret.

“Ugh, I don’t want to chooseeee!”

I whine.

“Well, what do you think?”

When it’s especially tough, I attempt to divert.

“What would you do instead?”

Oh no, you looked disapproving. Am I wrong??

disapproving

all three of these ladies are out of your league, man

 

 

 

 

What’s more? I’m not just asking one or two close friends. I ask EVERYONE I know. Sometimes I poll my twitter followers. I ask my hairdresser (Hi Lisa!). Hell, even strangers I am barely acquainted with but am friends with on Facebook. Crowdsourcing major life decisions is absolutely my brand.

“Hey, didn’t we talk that one time at the mall three years ago? Help me make this very important life decision!”

(Or even more pathetically, help me decide what to have for lunch!)

 

lunch

these gentleman are in agreement (that Phillippa Soo is amazeballs)

It’s not necessarily that I can’t make decisions. I can and do. I elected to have buffalo wing dip for breakfast and chocolate covered almonds for lunch today. I haven’t even regretted it yet! But I’m always afraid that I will regret it. I’m absolutely terrified that I will make the wrong decision. I almost never make decisions on impulse. Rather, I meticulously overthink them.

 

So I think it came as a surprise to everyone including myself when I said I was moving to New York City even though I hadn’t yet gotten a job there.

 

I mean… Look, I am sensible to a fault. I don’t spend money carelessly and hardly ever charge something I couldn’t pay off immediately if I needed to. I don’t just make decisions like this! Hell, I’ve even talked myself out of making this exact decision at least five times in the past!

This time was just the tipping point. And it’s incredibly cheesy, but there was one specific reason I was catapulted in this direction.

Yep. Lin Manuel Miranda and his extraordinarily popular musical Hamilton.

I know it’s corny and stupid but the song “Wait for It” that Aaron Burr sings in act one?

 

waitforit

sorry, Burr, but that was dumb.

I’m tired of waiting for it. I’ve always been the Burr character in the story of my life. I mean, I’m not a villain, but I’m definitely one to let things happen to me. I’m don’t make things happen; I wait for them to happen. There’s a subtle, but powerful difference. (Un?)Fortunately, here’s the truth…

Nothing is going to happen unless you make it happen.

It was a hard truth for me to realize, but it’s the god’s honest truth – especially in my industry. At least 90% of jobs that are posted in tv and film get filled internally or by people who know someone. A someone with connections who emails your resume directly, or puts it on the right desk. You’ll never get a call for an interview from applying on their site. It’s just not how it works. And not living in the city? Strike two. I’m practically out before I’ve even taken a swing.

 

So I’ve made this decision (and a lot of things happened even quicker than I thought they would). I found an apartment and a great new friend. Putting in my notice was absolute torture (I’m so bad at confrontation (unless it’s a duet between Javert and Valjean, in which case I will happily join you – either part)) but even that went better than I could have dreamed. Almost everyone I have told has been so supportive and I can’t wait for this next chapter of my life.

 

workout

I don’t know if I’ll be quite this revered but…

 

A lot is going to change. I have a lot of plans to finalize and choices to make. I will probably bug each and every one of you innumerable times. Please bear with me. It’s all going to work out in the end; it has to.

I am not throwing away my shot.

I’m gonna be in the room where it happens.

March 1
wait for it

 

 

 

 

 

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New Year’s Resolutions (and how to suck at them)

Step One: Make a New Year’s Resolution to update your blog more.

Step Two: Don’t do it.

Step Three: Make a resolution AGAIN (for the second year in a row…)

Step Four: Make it even easier – say you’ll update even once a month.

Step Five: Don’t update in January, thus failing your resolution before the year has really even begun.

Step Six: Congratulations, you now suck at blogging!

 

(I swear to god I’m going to blog more. I’m working on something right now that is pretty great. I think.)

What’s Next?

Did you miss me!?

Did you miss me!?

While I know that I only have maybe 3 readers on this blog, it occurred to me that I haven’t written in over a year and I didn’t like that. So much has happened in that time: I completed two amazing internships, took eleven classes (and somehow managed to pass them all), had my first date(s) in years (which ended horribly, but more on that later maybe), decided to move to Malaysia, decided not to move to Malaysia, graduated college (magna cum laude!), applied for some full time jobs, written what feels like a thousand cover letters, lost contact with some good friends, reconnected with others, and got a new phone. Phew, that was a really long list. And that’s not even the whole of it; I’m missing plenty of the good and the bad. I’ve changed, you’ve changed, and the world has changed.

Somewhere between reconnecting with old friends and getting my new phone (which is gold because I’m a winner), I realized that I missed writing. Unfortunately, I was still in the throes of my final semester of undergrad, so time was sparse. Now that commencement is over and life has momentarily slowed down, I’ve decided to reenter the world of blogging. This time around, I make absolutely no promise of keeping it up. I’m going to write when I want and when I have time, and if people enjoy it, then all the better.

Suddenly I have no idea where I was going with this blog. I wrote it up in my head at 3 am but now that it’s 12 hours later I can’t remember a damn thing.

Um, well at any rate, I’m going to be trying to update more often.

WAIT. I remember part of it. I had a really cute anecdote about how most of my writing lately has been either academic or cover letters (not a lie).

I tried googling cute little anecdote and this was the best thing to come up

I tried googling cute little anecdote and this was the best thing to come up

I had asked him read one of my latest cover letters, but ended up sending in my application before he had a chance to reply. I’m very impatient. After telling him I’d already sent it, he replied quite simply, “That’s okay. I’ve always considered you one of my favorite writers anyway.”

Wow.

What a compliment.

I mean.

Because I’ve never been that great at taking compliments (I’m getting better, I swear!), I just sort of shrugged it off. His comment stuck with me though, and I itched to write something less formal. Something just for me. I’d had the opportunity to do a lot of writing at both my internships this year, and a lot of it was really great. But it wasn’t as “fun” because it was for work. What is fun to write for? This blog. And I have a lot of ideas. Old ideas, new ideas. Stories from childhood and the last six months. I have plenty of material, and life is going to keep happening. And hopefully, I’m going to keep blogging about it.

be the Leslie Knope of whatever you do

So get on board, and buckle up, because my ride’s gonna be a big one. And if you get motion sickness, put your head between your knees ’cause Kelly Mackowiak’s stopping for no one.

I can’t tell North from East, or South from West. (Or why my blog subtitle is what it is.)

OH GOD SORRY I AM SO BAD AT THIS SOMETIMES. 

I wrote this next one like, a month ago. Shockingly, we no longer have snow here in Buffalo, but I’m sure it’ll be back at least once more before Spring truly hits. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this regardless. I swear there will be more posts soon. I have like, three of them half-written.

—–

It’s no secret to anyone who has ever driven with me that I have absolutely no sense of direction. Seriously. Not even a little bit. Unless we’re on the gridlocked lines of Manhattan, East is South and West is East and North is… also South. The point is, I don’t know where I’m going. I learn the routes I use all the time, and received a very useful GPS three winters ago for special trips.

(And truth be told, the GPS isn’t fool proof either, but more on that later maybe.)

One time coming home from Toronto, I drove halfway to Michigan. I’m not even kidding you.

That’s why I don’t really like driving. Especially not in bad weather. But we live in Buffalo and since the public transit system here is pretty shitty, I don’t have much of a choice. Unfortunately, that means I get stuck in some unfortunate situations. Like when they close down part of the 290 and, since it doesn’t get posted on twitter, I don’t know about it until it’s too late to take the route I’ve planned to be my alternate in these situations.

I had to get off at an exit I’ve never taken before to avoid paying the toll to cross the Grand Island bridges because I had exactly 21¢ in my cup holder. Which, surprise, isn’t enough for the toll. Oddly calm as I decided on a random direction to turn, I soon panicked. I thought maybe I’d figure it out once I started going, but all around there was nothing but trees. And snow. Naturally. Eventually I was in hysterics when, after six missed calls, my mother finally answered her phone. I tried to explain where I was but trees! Everywhere, trees! Luckily, one of her coworkers lives in the area and she tried to help me find my way to a street I knew.

Oh, but I got lost on the way there too. And then I got stuck behind a train. Finally I found a familiar road and made my way home. The normally fifteen-minute drive turned into over forty. Furthermore, did I mention how I was doing this under the influence of flu meds? Yeah. I was. So that’s how I got lost on my way home this week.

I can’t wait to move to Manhattan so I never have to deal with this again.

(Oh, and I lied in the title for this post. The real reason that it’s my subtitle is because I absolutely adore Gilmore Girls. But this story is pretty relevant too.)

Running with Music (…or why I’m not allowed at the gym anymore)

I have a sort of confession to make.

My name is Kelly. And I am most certainly not a runner.

I mean, I do try. And while I do genuinely enjoy being outdoors and walking, the protein shakes, the marathons, the joy in a new pair of sneakers that stereotypical runners enjoy? Absolutely not. And don’t get me started on this supposed “wall” that once you get past, running suddenly seems enjoyable and almost easy. Every minute I spend actually running is hell. “Easy” is the last word I would use to describe it, and honestly if you see me running, you should probably run too—because that zombie apocalypse we keep hearing about is finally upon us.

blog post
What I imagine I look like when running

But in an effort to try being a healthier person, I have been trying to run. Or at least walk.

Well, if we’re being honest, it’s mostly walking.

I have a better reason than just hating running, though. Hear me out, because here’s where it gets weird.

One thing I don’t get about running is how you just, run. I mean sure, most runners these days will have their trusty iPod strapped to their upper bicep, and I’m assuming that they’re listening to music of some kind. But how do you listen to music and not want to dance or act it out?

Because I’m pretty sure my tendency to dance it out is why I’m not allowed at the gym anymore. 

(Yes, that’s a joke. I haven’t been kicked out of the gym. Yet.)

Maybe it’s the proliferation of musical soundtracks on my iPod, combined with extensive choreography in my head that makes me go crazy, but I just can’t take a walk and listen to music without dancing. Even when I used to run at home on the treadmill, it was ridiculous. The bopping of my head and the skipping and dancing drove the dogs crazy (but usually there was no one else around to see). I tried to control it at the gym, but there were definitely a few times that I flicked my wrist to the beat, or changed my stride to match a certain rhythm.

And outdoors? Hoo, boy. I get even worse. I’ve memorized a lot of choreography in my day, and I have done it all on my outdoor walks. Even the dogs are embarrassed to be seen with me.

I will even admit that as they pass by, drivers have maybe stared at me a bit too long. Probably wondering if I was mentally stable, or if they should stop and call for help. Maybe both.

At any rate, I’ve been trying this walking/running thing for a while now (That phrase gets really bulky. Maybe we could call it rulking? Or wanning? Maybe not.). I may never be a true “runner” but I guess the most important part is that I’m having fun with it?

Or maybe I’m just totally nuts. If anyone knows either way, I’d sure appreciate your input.