I love to hate you. No wait, hate to love you. No, you to love hate?

This song isn't new at all but I'm real stoked on it right now:

It's by this unassuming fella over here to the right. I love Brett Dennen. Look at him! He looks like that shy, quiet dude in high school who always wore led zep t-shirts and who surprised the hell out of you when the yearly talent show came around. I love it when things are sooooo not what they seem. Well, not so much in a Dorian Grayish way, but like a tamale kind of way (who knew such deliciousness could be contained in an ordinary corn husk?! and it takes love and hard work to make that savory soul-healer...I could take this metaphor much further, but I'll control myself. Gah such a dork) Anyways, this dude is quality.

So I've made a couple of new friends recently and I told them I'd blog more often out of respect for the medium. Mostly, I invited them to read this crap and I feel unworthy, so I need to kick it up a notch. We found out we all blogged, but they actually blog about useful and helpful things. And they do it like almost daily. I talk about stuff running around in my brain (visual: dog chasing it's own tail) maybe once a month. And since the chances aren't great that the concept will change (if any of these turn out to be helpful in any way, I promise you, it will be accidental), I've dedicated myself to more frequent ramblings. Holy geez I'm listening to my Ben Harper channel on Pandora right now and it's blowing my mind. Richie Havens doing "Here Comes the Sun" may or may not make your life a little better.

Maybe I'm just in a fantastic mood because today was my last class. I don't think I've shared this with many of you, but from class one, my acting teacher has proven to be giant douchebag. Huge. I have stories that would shock and awe you. The military could send me to Afganistan to the most cave-y terrorist-infested mountains, give me a megaphone, have me recount a few experiences, and I would not be surprised to find hordes of weepy Al-Qaeda shuffle out of their hiding places as broken men. I cried for three hours straight, uncontrollably, in class recently. He's got a gift. It takes talent to know how to completely break down a class full of such different people! And for that, I give him a lot of credit. Tip o' the hat.

All that whining said, today I was in love with the dude. The struggle was over. We all talked. He transformed from a death eater into a homo sapien, and I was objectively able to see how his constant spewing of disgust and shame actually made a strong group of capable artists. Bravo, David. I guess you're not ultimately a douche if it was just the means to an end?*He pretty much is a hero of mine now. We'll see how long that lasts. Isn't it crazy how quickly and unexpectedly our feelings can change about people and things? We change all day everyday and I love it. Life can be monotonous, can't it? But you're wrong, it's completely unpredictable and exciting every second. Life would be a lot easier if we remembered this. And remembered the things that never change. Like my love for you all (aaaaw yeah)!

I may shave my head tonight. What are you gonna do? Maybe someone will leave a puppy on my doorstep.^ Who knows?

holler back,
kass



*Please don't infer that I'm implying a possible attraction to guys who belittle and torture me. I'm into the nice ones still, Mom, I promise.

^Fat chances, I know. Shut up! That's not the point.

Miss you!

Just a quick note for the day:

Today I've been thinking a lot about people that I've been missing around the country, nay, the world. And there are a lot of them! I know legion of folks and I won't forget any of you. I can't. I try, but my memory is relentless. Blessing and a curse. Anyways, for those people that I don't want to forget, I will think back fondly and melancholily* about them, and inevitably this is the thought that always surfaces: "That little bastard better miss me back!" But not like in a cutesy, nostalgic way. This thought is like jealous Zeus that kills all the lesser-god thoughts that are in his way. Doesn't matter who it is I'm missing. Even my little two-year old nephew is an unknowing victim of my violent love. For him, Zeus also adds, "and I better be his favorite aunt! Little smiley jerk."

Who am I? But I can't be alone in this, right?

If I made greeting cards, I'd get rid of all the, "Miss you!" and "Thinking of you!" mumbo-jumbo and replace them with anecdotes along the lines of: (outside of the card) "Sure do miss you..." (inside of the card) "...but more importantly, I hope there's a gaping, throbbing hole in your heart that keeps you up at night and just gets bigger and bigger because I'm gone." or maybe, "...but more importantly it would be great if you've lost all hope in the future being anywhere near as blissful as your time with me." or "...but more importantly I hope you need therapy. Lots of it." That kind of stuff. It's ugly, but it's the truth. And the truth will set you free?

The fact of the matter is, that honestly, from the bottom of my heart, I hope that each and every one of you are in pain. Moderate to extreme. No, just moderate at most.

And I hope it is because of me.

Sincerely (hope the sight of my name is like a kick in the chest),
Kassie

Holler back, lovers!

*new word...also could be a new breed of flower, perhaps with petals that stay within a neutral color palette; dull yellows, sad grays, the color of teardrops, etc. They skip blooming and go straight from the pod to wilting because, why bother?

Who dat?

I'm not sure what I'm emoting here in this picture. It looks like I'm trying to be polite, but really I'm not a fan of what or who I'm hearing. Look at that left eye. That is a disinterested left eye if I've ever seen one.

So Mama Donna kindly chastised me for not getting on this blog more. She's right! Why start a blog if you're not going to finish it? Which begs the question, how long does a blog live? FOR-E-VER. I'm telling you right now, I won't be blogging past menopause. I can't make that kind of commitment. Oh! You know what else? You know how chicks complain about their dudes always being 'afraid of commitment'? What if I'm the dude? I don't like committing to things lately. Don't tie me down, baby, I'll have you in a half-nelson quicker than you can say "sign here". I also get real excited at the idea of having babies, though. So. Chock full of contradicting feelers. But this is all beside the point.

The point is I got a rad new hairdo. Check it out! First time I've had bangs since like the single digit years. I walked into this salon my roommate recommended, told the hairdresser (Katie-she's a doll) to have at it, and this is what she came up with. She's a painter in real life. She works her art into hair to pay the bills. You can't see this, but she shaved The Mona Lisa into the back of my head. That's not true. But she did treat me as a work of art and kept complimenting my facial area, so she's won me over for life. I'm real easy, folks.
Possible scenario:
Hairdresser Katie-"You're so gorgeous I think you could really pull off baldness. Like a shiny happy noggin type of head."
Kassie-"Yes do it. Yes. You think I'm gorgeous I will do whatever you say. And I will tip you generously. Thank you."

It really is that easy. Just like when I meet a person, I don't trust them until they've genuinely laughed at something I've said. (I discovered this about myself last year. I know the implications. Let's just leave it alone for now.) I'm a simple person. I have simple needs. And currently I'm simply just so thankful that God lets me still look very much like a girl when I have boy hair. Cuz the truth is I'd keep the short hair either way probably. But my boobs are huge. So that helps.

AAAAnd on that note. Holler back!

Goodbye 20<10s

This is always what I think about when I watch the New Year's Eve countdown on the tellie. This poor guy. He HATES New Year's. I don't think he's feeling all that hope in humanity that the crowd was tripping on earlier in the evening. We haven't even learned to throw our coffee cups into the garbage can (five feet away from us) when we are through. Cmon guys, they're everywhere! I feel you, my sanitation man. Thank you for your commitment to your dirty job. We couldn't continue to pretend we are evolving without you.

Hey! Happy New Year! Happy New Decade!! I'm usually not big on New Year's as everyday is a new day, but this time it's a new decade, and I can get behind the excitement of that, I guess. Especially since I'm gonna OWN this decade (you can quote me on that). To celebrate I bought 10 lbs. of delicious Indian food and a bottle of Martinelli's, fell asleep at like 8 pm (dude, I was getting my butt kicked by lady issues! I said it. Uncomfortable?), I woke myself up at 11:30pm to watch the new-and-improved ball drop with Dick Clark, bless his heart, and then I hit the sack shortly thereafter. I know what you're thinking-how does she DO it?! I could never keep up with this force of nature!! Relax, guys, I've been doing it for years. You have to build up to it.

Token New-Year's-Type Insights
I have learned that:
1. I'm capable of all sorts of sh*t I didn't know about. You probably are, too. Just try something new. Often please. Watch life unfold.
2. When I am home alone, I enjoy going to the bathroom with the door open.
3. I suck at flower arranging. It is an art apparently. I'm looking at some winter tulips I just bought yesterday to brighten up the living room, and they ended up making my life less awesome. They're all askew and look like they're trying to escape. Which, of course, makes me feel guilty. I didn't take them from their homes! Ugh when I'm rich I will take a class about this.
4. My gut is the smartest person I know. My brain is useless 75% of the time, detrimental to my quality of life 95% of the time.
5. Most powerful epiphany of the year: Life is good.

I am incredibly blessed. It's ridiculous. I'm gonna pay it forward, guys. That is a promise.

Much luv,
Kassie 010110

I Fold Like a Card Table

Regina Spektor's a little bit of a weirdo, eh? She was just making dolphin sounds on this here album I'm listening to. I think I like her. Plus, she resembles Mel from The Flight of the Conchords, and my brain delights in this connection. Oh the possibilities.

Who wants to hear a random "Only in New York" story?! Me too! So I am currently job seeking (ugh I can't wait to be paid for being Kassie Cardon) and awaiting classes to start at the studio, so I have plenty of time to walk a mile round trip for a Popeye's lunch every once in a while! Those $1.50 chicken wraps are a steal, I tell you, a steal! So I'm standing third in line, excited to purchase my delicious and economical lunch when a crazy lady comes up to me from behind and to the left. Her teeth and hygiene reminded me of this lady I have featured to the right here, Ms. Winehouse. The aging woman came up to maybe my left bicep. She was, let's be honest, most likely Dominican in nature, and had long, windswept hair which had been pulled back in a ponytail. I think. I only got a good look at her face, as I stared at it in disbelief for the majority of our relationship.

"Huh?" She had demanded something of me, but I couldn't hear her over my iPod. And these are the words she spake, hand to heaven, with the authority of a mother and the entitlement of Paris Hilton: "Buy me something to eat! I'm hungry." Me: "Wha?" She repeats it, this time with impatience. "Buy me something to eat! I'm hungry!" I stared at her in disbelief. Little beady eyeballs to wide shell-shocked eyeballs. The words had stunned my brain. And I'm not gonna lie, the feelings that ended up surfacing were not ones of anger or defensiveness or annoyance. They were 70% guilt (of course) and 30% unadulterated awe. Some emotion in the respect family. This tiny woman just demanded food and/or money from me, a humongous Amazon of a white chick! I was fascinated by her. Her teeth were rotting I believe, you know, brown in the middle and more cylindrical than they should be. She was angry at me for being me. She made me feel like I had shirked some responsibility for too long, and that this directly affected her, and now was the time I was to make up for it. She made me feel like draft dodgers must have felt when they got caught. She was hungry. Her son was dying in Vietnam. And this was completely my fault.

My reaction?

"Um, ok. Well, what do you want?" I ended up just giving her a couple of bucks because we disagreed on taste. (I was willing to hook her up with one of my wraps, whilst she wanted a fancy $6.00+ value meal.) She was gone quicker than you can say "crack pipe". In-credible. Wow. That woman OWNED me.

I'm not sure if I should feel ashamed of this character flaw. Surely some sort of self preservation survival instinct should have kicked in. I might as well have had "Welcome" written across my chest and been laid at the entrance to her cardboard box. Honestly, though, I feel that she earned it. The delivery of her request alone was worth at least a biscuit.

I know what some of you are thinking. Future Kassie: "Gee, husband of mine, that slug in the face really hurt, but golly, the way your arm swung across your chest, the position of your fist, your form was PERFECT! Bravo!" I'm pretty positive this won't happen. Right? Hm. Maybe I should adjust some more brain wires.

Only in New York.

Holler back!

Long Time No Blog

Howdy! It looks like I skipped the entire month of July. Whooooops. It was crazy busy, anyway. Much too much has transpired since I moved to NYC, I would have to write several volumes to catch up. All you really need to know is that the acting program went better than anyone could've imagined, they've invited me back for the two year program, and I agreed to after some arm-twisting. :)

I'm stoked. Dreams turning to realities. Apparently that actually happens. I feel more happy and liberated than ever. Doesn't get much better than that.

I'm on vacation in Denver. Getting tan and preparing to rock the NYC fulltime. More to come.

Holler back.

Kassie

I heart (the Dominican Republic of) NY

So I know I'm a once-a-month blogger at best, but something about moving made me itchin' to get the word out that I made it to the NYC okay. If you were wondering. This picture to the left is not much of an exaggeration. I had the quintessential "moving to the big city to realize her dreams" day yesterday. Complete with a car with my full-sized bed strapped to the top (a Honda Fit, mind you; possibly the smallest hood square-footage out there), a starryish-eyed-yet-prematurely-cynical girl all alone in the driver's seat, getting turned around in Pennsylvania*, driving through midtown Manhattan in said vehicle with the windows rolled down blaring DMB, the miracle lone parking spot right in front of my brownstone, the friendly old black lady sitting on the steps with her church shoes in her hands taking a break to catch her breath and give us neighborly advice, three single lil young ladies hauling 1,000,000 lbs. of junk up to the third story (I'm so sorry. Why must I have a love affair with books WHY?!), and to end the day, the new friends sat down with cool drinks and watched the Tonys. I'm not sure it could get anymore stereotypical. Maybe I could've gotten a flat tire and had Dave Letterman change it for me. Yankee Stadium is a twenty minute walk from my home.

So, yes, folks I made it. Well, physically at least. Which is pretty much all I'll ever ask. My next goal is to search out other normal people. Normals. NYC has a stigma, at least for me, of having uber-motivated, high-achieving, back-biting talented career successes everywhere. I am not interested in these people. Although, you know, good job at all that. I'm sure your parents are proud and stuff. But surely hidden amongst the immigrants (I'm a minority in my neighborhood, btw. W00T! I will learn Dominican. Maybe I'll start with Spanglish.) and the Broadway wackos and the young money dbag's there are folks like me. Just happy to be here. Hoping to learn a thing or two that I can pass on to the kiddies one day. Make some memories.

If you ever wanna come to the City, you have a place to stay. There are a TON of hotels in this town. :)

Kassinator