Who knew that dreams come true?

So I have realized that people actually read this. After a while folks were like, "You need to blog again! We love reading your blog!" and my I was like, "Sweet! I'm rad!" but that thought was immediately followed by, "Aaah crap now everyone expects all your blogs to be awesome." And then I would postpone writing until I was feeling blogawesomey. Which is never. So thanks, readers, for dooming me to failure. Inevitably, this is being written in the wee hours of the morning as I'm pining for a certain fella and/or a nice, hot panini. (I hate going to bed hungry, you?) And this is what is on my mind:

Well, yesterday I went up to Manhattan for an interview with a prestigious acting conservatory. Basically I went up for a nice day off and to do some shopping, since I wasn't expecting anything else to come of it (I got some sweeeetarse heels! They're so fugley they're beautiful). Anyways, turns out they accepted me and basically my life has instantly become super duper awesome. I'm pretty much gonna ROCK you, world! NYC is gonna give me an inch and I'm gonna take the freakin highway. This is literally a dream of mine coming true: this opportunity. And I've never fully believed in the "dreams coming true" business. So, I'm sort of conflicted cuz now I have to change some personal philosophies, become less pessimistic, blah blah blah. Which is annoying, but it can't be helped.

Me and my mom's newish husband Chuck wrote and recorded some music this last weekend, too, which was rad and scary at the same time. Surely there is a word for that. Andre the Giant? This weekend was Andre the Giant. So I'm singing, readers! Just like I said I would. And to prove it to you, I'll find someone who can teach me how to put songs into blogs. And then we'll see what happens...

For those of you who are waaaay worried/kinda pissed at my decision to pursue my dreams, I am sorry. I really am. I was on your side most of my life so I feel your pain (conflicted, again). But I would like to assure you that I will not allow myself to go hungry or to turn into a criminal. And I won't ask you for money. I just ask for you to not point out how poor I am going to always be and how risky this is and how irresponsible/irrational it seems and how everyone is just gonna tell me I'm wonderful and steal my money when I'm not looking and then all of the sudden I've turned into a the ringleader of some brutal lesbian street gang. That's all I ask. You don't even have to support me! Just don't point out these things. Hey thanks!

ALSO if any of you work with me or know people who work with me, let's keep this on the DL, shall we? I value my job. I'm not retarded (well that's what momma tells me) and I am not gonna give up a good income for a summer conservatory with an unpredictable outcome. Me and the Bossman will work it out somehow, I'm fairly confident. So just leave it to me pretend we never had this conversation

Wanna know what makes the world go round? Love. Chew on that until next time.

Holler back.

When I grow up I want to want to be something

I just ate one of those strawberry hard candies and it was good, but here's the thing - it was after I brushed my teef. You heard me! It's my way of sticking it to the Man. I found the candy on the kitchen table. Not sure where it came from. I hope it wasn't poisoned. Crap.

Uh so yes it is a New Year and I honestly feel like one million bucks. Probably even a gazillion. But here's how I feel about New Year's Resolutions: Meh. Really? Once a year we're encouraged to improve our lives? (That's a lot of pressure. Why not a little all the time?) I'm not totally into it, but I'm all about moving on and moving up. Something strange has happened to me this year. Instead of me making a New Year's resolution, the New Year actually resolved me. I feel like someone sat down and completed the disarrayed jigsaw puzzle that was Kassie while I stepped out of introspection for the holidays. Also, I seem to have misplaced a lot of my fear. I'm not sure where I had it last. I must have left them in my other year. Regardless, I'm feeling rather at a loss for anxiety and I'm loving it. Fear is for suckers! Fear of change. Fear of spiders. Fear of yourself. Nick Nolte. Well...warranted.

Does anyone remember what they used to say they wanted to be when they grew up? I don't remember ever planning on anything specific. I think I was just hoping to make it past eleven, but I'm sure if I had thought about it, it wouldn't have been International AOG Logistics (not that I am not very grateful for my current job W00T ECONOMY!). So I'm asking myself now. And I suggest you do the same. If you can change something in your life to make it more ideal, do it! Especially if the only thing really holding you up is fear. Break up with the deadweight. Ask dreamgirl out. Apply for that program. Wear those shoes with that shirt - it looks stupid, but just own it. Don't give a damn. Do eet.

Here is what's funny about me: I sing. And I write. I think maybe three of you know this. Actually perhaps a couple more due to my cheap-arse Christmas presents to you all this year (I recorded myself in my bathroom, and it was straight from the heart, my loves). Anywho, I'm thinking this year I'm gonna work on getting a record deal. This will be a goal. Now, you're laughing or at least worrying about my sanity (aaw thanks!) and questioning whether or not you actually ever really knew me (or whether or not you actually really know anyone and who are you, anyway?). Either way, then fantastic! Isn't that the best?! When someone you know plans something either really awesome or really ridiculous?! It makes life more interesting for one and all.

I'm going to sing this year. What are you gonna do? I hope it's awesome. And if it embarrasses the hell out of your family, then even better.

I promise I won't quit my day job. Yet. :) Long live the marine biologists and the ballerinas and the astronauts inside each of us.

Holla Back.

"I am Human and I need to be loved..."

just like everybody else does. Soooo, who has two thumbs and is lame for not posting blogs in several fortnights? This guy! Turns out I actually have "fans" (probably shouldn't pluralize that) who I've let down, to whom I say, I am sorry and also you should maybe get used to being disappointed.

Have you ever had chunks of life that leave you just baffled? I'm not the best at handling these stretches. I wake up confused, not knowing where I am or at what age. After I've reminded myself that I'm adult Kassie and I'm in Virginia, which is for lovers, and so obviously, I'm where I am supposed to be, I proceed to go about my daily tasks in a state of heightened awareness. That's right, I don't trust you anymore and yes, I have been noticing and analyzing every subtle change in your general behavior since I've been proverbially knocked on my arse by Life. For some reason, I need to pretend like I'm Julia Roberts in "The Pelican Brief". It's creepy and in a way an impressive and specialized skill set, do not worry. I will turn back into my normal crazy soon.

Speaking of lovable crazies, it seems appropriate given the season that I leave you with my presidential hopeful of 2012 (that is, if he's out of the slammer by then). I don't want to alienate anyone by talking politics, but I'm gonna be bold and go ahead and throw myself behind Monsieur Traficant. Sir, you have my vote. My name is Kassie Cardon and I approve this message. Beam me up, Mr. Speaker.

Hugs, anyone?

You know how one hug, given by just the right person at just the right time, literally fixes everything and, aaaah, all is well?

I don't know how many times in my adult life that I have had the very critical conversation with other adults concerning the superpower dilemma. A lot more often than one would assume. Apparently there is a higher than expected chance that one day, we will all be offered a superpower of our own choosing. Grown men the world over lay up at night attempting to prepare for such an event. What am I to CHOOSE? Flight. Pre-cognition. Mind-reading. Invisibility. The ability to make Harry Potter and Hogwarts real.

I know what I would chose. I would be the Hugster. I would be just the right person that comes at just the right time and gives the hugs that makes it all better.

I was talking to a friend recently about life ambitions/goals/plans/dreams. I've got big ones that I only admit to myself and little ones that I'm close to accomplishing. But after soul-searching, the truth is, I really do just want to become the Hugster. Which is impossible. I've done the calculations, and I won't live long enough to hug 6 billion + people. Also, with timing being crucial and what have you, so...I'm just gonna try my best to be a mini-hugster, in whatever little and imperfect ways that I can.

Hugs are taking two mutually-agreed-upon awesome things and putting them together in a spirit and moment of gratitude, making that present even better. I feel like my ipod provides me with audiohugs all the time. Here are some of my favorite audiohug combinations:

Belle & Sebastian + long autumn walks amongst colorful falling leaves
The Decemberists + cleaning the house
Kings of Leon + driving on a sunny day with the windows down and sunglasses on
Feist + laying on the bed daydreaming
NPR + the daily commute
Bob Dylan/Sufjan Stevens + long walks along swan-filled Scottish canals
Oh Brother Where Art Thou bluegrass + blogging

Anyone else have favorite audiohugs?
Holla back

Romeo and Manliet

Why is Feist so awesome? And Fiona? And Sufjan? When I die, I'm totally shaking hands with the dude(tte) who invented music. If not making love to them.

So balance is going aight. I feel like I'm getting a ton more done in the day and life's been more rewarding. I'm not as balanced as I like to be still. I've still got my training wheels on, but I'm advancing for sure. Thanks for asking.

So me and a couple of my homies went into D.C. the other week and saw the Shakespeare Company put on "Romeo and Juliet" auld school style - all male cast. Needless to say, the days leading up to this event were full of my adolescent excitement and giggling (hehehe boys kissing). Little did I know that my mind would be blown by these actors. Literally. At curtain call I was on my hands and knees gathering up the remains of what once was my scalp, cerebrum, and various and sundry other head parts. HOLY GUACAMOLE. I am not exaggerating when I say it was the best play I've ever seen. Ever. Seen. I'm thinking about patronizing only all-male theatre groups as a rule from here on out. It restored my faith in the magic. Magic is real. And sometimes it's found in the theatre.

Thank you Shakespeare (again). You and the music inventor. IOU roughly 98% of my earthly joy.

Manliet

OOoh I am scared of tiny, tiny things

That statement is true on many different levels, but currently I'm terrified of these crazy-spastic-jumping-flash crickets! I don't know if you all are familiar with these - I hadn't met one until I moved to NoVa - but they jump around super fast in an unpredictable fashion. Their movements are completely random and evil. The most advanced logarithm in creation could not predict their travel patterns. If Satan ever wanted to show up in insect form, he would be the CSJF cricket. Actually, my reaction to a visitation from the devil himself would be a perfect illustration of what these little monsters illicit from me.

I was just in the bathroom, watering the toilet, when I went to the sink and was suddenly filled with sheer terror. One of those beasts was on the ground between the head and the sink. I nearly skipped washing the hands just so I could GET OUT OF THERE asap. But I talked myself down and, whilst screaming on the inside, soaped up and ran to my current location.

This cricket (ugh I shudder even typing it) poses no realistic threat to me or my safety. But I don't care. It probably is the king of lies out to get me. I'm scared of all sorts of little things that shouldn't frighten me. Moths, for example. And little kids that are cooler than me. Compliments. I think it may have to do with my perhaps overactive imagination. Or latent paranoid schizophrenia. Or developing hypochondria.

It's like four a.m. Blogging in the middle of the nite is to be discouraged, I think.

Remember that song "3am" by Matchbox 20? Remember Matchbox 20? I believe their first hit was "I wanna initiate a physically abusive relationship with you" or something to that effect. That first album was money. Sigh. The good ol' days.
Speaking of which, who is that precious little girl? Wow. I bet she grows up to be a force of nature. You can just tell, yeah? You know what's weird? I don't feel I've changed much at all since then. Just got a bigger vocabulary. I think I'm probably a little scared of her. :)

Um, so I really wrote this post to declare my new challenge. I haven't had one since the end of The Rawness. I've known this one was gonna pop up sooner or later, though, so I guess now is the time. I already hate myself for doing it cuz it's lame and boring. My newest challenge of indeterminate length is the achievement of...balance.

Have you ever met someone who has a balanced life? Yeah, me neither. They're elusive, those guys. Also, no one seems to want balance. Why not, you ask? Because balance is boring. Where's the spontaneity? Where are the binges and the famines and the ulcers and strokes? The meat of life?? Admittedly, balance will probably bring some much needed peace and happiness to me on a regular, predictable basis. But I hate knowing what I'm gonna do tomorrow. I'll need to make sure I set aside a certain time everyday where I can go ahead and chose to do something rash and probably useless if I want. (What, there's a breath-taking sunset tonight? F that. I'm gonna sit in here and watch the Family Guy).

Freedom. I'm insane. And soon to be regular. Ew. What a depressing word. Who wants to help me come up with a more evocative synonym for "balanced", "regular", "predictable", "one who sleeps exactly the same amount nightly", etc.?

Holla back!
Kass

The Love Bullough

Meet my buddy Adam Bullough. Handsome devil, is he not? I met him in southern California where we were serving together as missionaries for a couple of years. The kid is thebomb.com. One of those people of whom you just feel privileged to be in their presence. Aura-licious. He's a musician. He's genuine. He's kind. I always assumed that the world would be hearing from Adam Bullough. The little guy's too big for the universe to keep under wraps. I secretly have been planning on recording music with him someday. He plays the harmonica! You heard me.

Tragedy struck about a month ago when Bullough was thrown from his motorcycle and suffered severe brain trauma. He wasn't wearing a helmet. He was put into an induced coma for two weeks before the specialists (and Adam) could determine whether or not he would see another day. Inexplicably (or maybe not so, to those witnessing), and to the bafflement of his doctors, miracle after miracle have been happening. Luckily, today Adam is improving. He's still in a coma, but is slowly coming to. Even opened his eyes on command a couple of times. In addition to that incredible news, the doctors feel that most of his brain damage can be reversed. Which means Adam will still be Adam. But he fights daily to reclaim his right to wake up again. And again. And again.

Bullough is gonna be fine. More than fine. I have faith. My heart is tortured for his family. I'm grateful for the effort they put into keeping us informed through caringbridge.org. I'm thankful for the reality check.

What am I doing right now? What are you doing? Are you with the ones you love? Everyday, are you becoming, or just being? Are you catching the sunrises? Smelling the Ponderosa Pines (it's like butterscotchy vanilla, btw)? Are you taking chances? Taking pictures?

Am I?

Tomorrow I will get to wake up before the sun rises. It will be effortless. Like it is day after day. And, frankly, I probably won't be grateful for this gift at first. But deep down I will be because I can change. I can change right now. The gift of the rise and shine.

You can change, too. Choose to be happier. Choose to be more giving. Choose to be different. To listen to the voice. To impregnate the moments. Please do.

And please, always remember a helmet.

Holla back.
Kassie