The Stuff That Has Gone Down In Reality

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Yes! I haven’t posted for ages. In my own defence, I’ve had very little time for writing, and I’ve got very good reasons why. It’s been nearly two weeks since I posted, and so much has happened, both in Reality and Delirium.

So let’s go! Starting with Reality. Because I’ve written a lotta stuff about Delirium, stuff which is not going to go to waste. And no Bad Dog, there’s no smut, so don’t even go there.

Okay…Reality.

Exams

Erghhhhh, I’m dying here. So far I’ve finished my Literature exam and my Religion exam. Literature was okay, however, I found myself doing the same thing I do for every essay, which is repeat the same thing over and over again to make sure my point gets across. Either way, I think I did okay. Hopefully it’s at least a C. And Religion was better than expected, though I really don’t know how well I did. I could’ve done awesomely (which would only happen if the one marking my exam was a bit tipsy) or I could’ve done absolutely shitty. But I answered all the questions. Just not sure if I answered them the right way.

Tomorrow is Human Bio and Maths. On the same day. And I regret not going to school today and studying. You see, when you don’t have an exam, you don’t have to turn up at school. Which is great. But I really need to study for Human Bio and Maths, because I’ve missed a lot of lessons due to Delirium. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve missed plenty of other subjects too. But unlike Lit and Religion, I can’t just conjure something out of my incredibly vivid imagination, I need to learn facts. And looking back now, had I been given a choice, I definitely would’ve gone to school to study.

Unless mum was there too. Fortunately that’s not allowed, otherwise mum would always turn up at school, screaming at me to clean my fucking room.

Mum has been refusing to let me study. Well, she goes through a process about it. Step 1, she asks “Can you clean your room if you have time?” Step 2, she comes in and yells at me because my room’s not clean. This happens usually ten minutes after Step 1. When I object to this, she can take two paths. Step 3A is to refuse to believe that I’m studying, because obviously, I’m on my iPad! Which happens to have my fucking textbooks on it. Or she can choose the other option, Step 3B, which is essentially a guilt trip. You can kind of visualise it, you know those arguments your parents give you that begin with “When I was your age”? It’s like that, only far less effective because it’s far from logical. Mum says something along the lines of “When I was your age, it didn’t matter if I finished exams or not.” Or something like that. Having another world in your head is extremely tempting at times like that…

Modelling

Had another photoshoot on Sunday. Theme was Apocalypse, but for once, I had had enough of zombies (gasp!). Instead, I was going as the Grim Reaper. Which was fricking awesome.

What was even more fricking awesome was the death scythe one of the Props guys made me. It wasn’t real, but it looked it. Best $55 I had ever spent. EVER. When I was carrying it around, I scared a few photographers and models. On the side, Daniel told me ‘Your Cat Madigan is showing’, which made me remember that I was still in Reality. It also reminded me that I shouldn’t stick my tongue out at what would look like an empty space to ordinary humans.

Highlight of the shoot was when I got together with one of the zombies and took him for a walk in the city. After locating a leash, the Grim Reaper went skipping down the alleyway with her pet zombie in tow, where they proceeded to traumatise many a childling. ‘Twas a wonderful day. Not so much for the little kids, but yeah.
The photos are looking pretty cool so far, I’m still waiting for the rest to be posted. There’s another photoshoot next Sunday, theme is Autumn. Still awaiting other photos from a test shoot I did and a glamour one. Why do photographers take so long….

Oh, and also, I did a fashion show where I got my hair coloured. The colour’s not that different, but it shows in the sunlight. It’s just a colour rinse. And I got to wear a wedding dress, though to be honest, I wouldn’t wear it to my own wedding, though I’d definitely want to wear it around the house. Liquid silk feels really nice… But anyway, it was 1920s themed, and though it was very pretty, it reminded me that I had no boobs and no waist when I looked at it in the mirror. Sure, I looked skinnier, but it gave me more of a boyish look.

Not that I’d ever get married anyway.

No, Daniel.

“What? You wish to live in sin for the rest of your life?”

“Pfffft. Sin, schmin. Besides, I promised Delamore not till 23.”

“I thought that was for virginity.”

“Hmm…you’re right. I should ask her about that. Actually, nah. She’d want to come to the wedding.”

“Let’s just agree that our relationship is fine the way it is and move on. Preferably before you start going on about wedding dresses.”

“I don’t go on about them, I just draw them.”

Moving. On.

“Fine.”

X

My second cousin Xenia came to stay for two weeks three weeks ago. I’d met her once at Christmas last year, but that was the only time if had met her before she stayed with us. She’s 19, three years older than my Reality self, but barely months older than my real age. There was enough resemblance between us that we could tell that we shared some genetic material, but that only extended to our hair and our tiny hands.

Mum said she was prettier than me, and she was probably right. She had nice brown eyes and light brown skin with no freckles or scars on it. Personally, I think mum liked Xenia because she wasn’t a kleptomaniac or a schizophrenic, not to mention she was an obedient daughter to her own parents, as an only child. Xenia grew close to mum when she first came, as Tig and I were always at school.

I never knew much of what she thought of me. I knew what she thought of my brother; Tig was always mouthing off about Mum, and she yelled at him, saying that she wanted to slap him. She and I barely interacted though, outside our family outings. The most we talked was when we went to an art exhibit in Rockingham on the beach, and I started using my artist/Literature skills to deduce the meanings behind the various sculptures before us.

“What does Indulgence mean?” she asked, when we approached several giant cupcake sculptures.

“I think…” I tried to put it as simply as I could. “It means to…take pleasure in something. Like…eating cupcakes. You take pleasure in eating- HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!”

I had thought that the long things sticking out of the cupcakes were meant to be wafers, but upon closer inspection, the end of the ‘wafer’ was shaped like a foot, which meant… “Legs,” I gasped. Xenia watched me incredulously as I started laughing. “There’s legs in the cupcake!” I crowed. “Oh my god…”

“You are strange,” Xenia said.

“Thankyou,” I returned. “Do you want to hear what this means?”

She looked back at the statue and stared at in quiet unease. “I don’t really want to…” she announced. “I liked it better when it was just ordinary cupcakes.”

We got along okay, but we never really bonded much, not like she and Mum seemed to anyway. She liked my drawings, well, the ones which weren’t of psycho zombie dragons, and she came to my modelling events with mum, but we never had much of a private conversation about things. She was pretty solitary when it came to our family, and I was up in the clouds most of the time. I also found her a bit too much like my mother to trust her much, even though she was from my father’s side of the family.

There was one time though, at the bus stop in the city. She came with me, as she was going on a tour to see the pinnacles, and she had to catch the ferry in the city. We didn’t speak on the bus, but when I got off, I felt horrible suddenly and stumbled off, grabbing onto the fence to keep steady. Daniel was there in a heartbeat, and helped me calm down from my panic attack. I was nearly in tears, but I finally stopped shaking.

“Cat?” Xenia said, and that’s when I realised she was right there, watching me. I looked up. “Are you alright?” she enquired.

“I’m fine,” I said.

She frowned, but didn’t say anything for a while. I was walking her to the ferry when she asked again. “Was that your…” She searched for a word. “Episode?”

“…yeah, little bit.”

“What…is it is?”

After hesitating, I decided to tell her. It was a word that she would most likely forget later on anyway. “Schizophrenia,” I told her. “Or some form of it.”

“Oh. How bad?”

I took that as a sign that she didn’t know what it was. Good. “Pretty bad,” I told her. “I…I don’t have long.”

Xenia frowned. “I thought…it was because of your mother.” I was puzzled. “She hit you across the face last night,” she went on. When my eyes widened, she smiled. “Your cheek is a little red,” she said.

“Right.”

“Are you alright?”

I gave a bright smile. “No.”

I left her at the ferry. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her about it. It’s just that I didn’t think she’d understand. She seemed so positive about things, always talking about how thankful for life we should be, and she was so close to Mum that I didn’t think she’d believe half the things I had to say. Or maybe she would believe them, and take them straight to Mum, the last person I wanted to know.

We got along. That’s all I can say.

So that’s it from Reality. I’m trying to catch up on the things from Delirium as best as I can. It’s gotten quiet again, so hopefully I’ll be able to catch up.

Also, Mum found her phone and apologised for belting my across the face.

Till next time.

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Mad Cat Artwork: Grim

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Haven’t posted one of these for a while, even though I’ve done quite a few.

Actually, I did post one in Beware of the Mad Cat, but it didn’t get it’s own post or anything.

So, the theme of an upcoming shoot is Apocalypse, and I am going as the Grim Reaper, so I decided to do a picture of what I’m hoping to look like. I still need to find a makeup artist and maybe a stylist to work on the idea with me, but hopefully Cat Madigan will get to be wielding a badass death scythe later this month.

“Oh Joy. As if you weren’t already scary.”

Please leave feedback in the comments, I’d love to hear from you nonexistent readers once in a while. ^_^

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Mad Cat Artwork: Demon and Chaos

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In honour of the recent discovery of my split personality, I have made this. It’s weird and honestly, I don’t know really what it is. But I like it.

Please give feedback, blah blah, you know the drill.

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I’ll probably make a better digital version of this. A new project for the holidays. Maybe that’ll distract me from boredom…

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Mad Cat Artwork: Mhyrandah

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Home!

Finally!

A day early!

Brilliant!

Thank god… Don’t know why I went in the first place…

Oh, that’s right, athletics. How did I go in that again?

Well, it was a 5km racewalk, and as a result of the humidity, my cold which stubbornly refused to desist and my brain which doesn’t like to stay in Reality for too long, so I didn’t do as well as I wanted. But I didn’t come last, so I was very happy with that.

Now what…

Oh, drawing!

I sketched a picture of Mhyrandah Atlys on the way home. If you don’t remember, she’s a character in the story I’m writing. I mentioned her in a previous Weekly Writing Challenge, see.

Anyway…

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It’s only a sketch, but seeing as I have time on my hands, now it’s holidays, I might do a better quality one, done on my iPad.

Let me know, nonexistent readers, if you’d like to see it. By the way, I haven’t seen Daniel as of late. Not too sure where he is…

Cat Madigan.

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I have found another part about myself that I hate. Yes, it turns out that it is possible. After discovering millions of flaws in myself, I thought there couldn’t have been anymore.

I have a feeling that whenever I say things like ‘What could be worse than this,’ or ‘I’ve hit rock bottom’, my brain seems to determine this as a challenge.

THIS IS NOT A GAME BRAIN! I DON’T WANT TO FEEL EVEN MORE INSECURE ABOUT MYSELF, I’M A NUTJOB ALREADY!!

So I’ve figured out something else about myself.

I develop attachments to the simplest, stupidest things.

About a few months ago, I nearly had a panic attack when I was deciding to change my radio from 92.9 to 99.3, more commonly known as Triple J. You see, my radio is difficult to change stations on, and if I chose to change my radio station, it would probably stay on that station for the rest of that radio’s existence. And I was freaking out about it. And it was a radio station!

And for all you imaginary 92.9 fans who are asking, I got sick of Nicki Minaj and songs with horrible meanings. Yes, I’m looking at you Miley Cyrus, and you Robin Thicke.

I also tend to be frightened when something happens to Daniel. Yes, the same Daniel who teases and picks on me whenever he has the chance. Because I’ve also gotten attached to him. He’s a friend, and he protects me.

And I shouldn’t get attached to him because he’s a part of my head which isn’t real, and my doctors are splitting hairs over getting rid of him.

I can imagine what you’re thinking, nonexistent reader. Why am I only just noticing this behaviour of mine?

I believe it happened because of a painting I had done. Well, it brought about the realisation.

A few months ago, we were painting abstract self portraits in Art, and mine actually won a prize, much to my astonishment. I was a better drawer than a painter, and the fact that I had won something for that painting was surprising in itself.

So today, I found out from my art teacher that someone wanted to buy my painting, and to think about if I wanted to sell it.

As I am incapable of expressing emotion properly, my only reaction was, “Oh, wow, okay.” On the inside, I felt everything spinning out of whack.

I was carrying my canvas outside when I saw Daniel waiting for me. He was pumped. “That,” he told me, “is wicked. Someone wanted to buy your work, that’s incredible!”

I just smiled tiredly.

Then Daniel noticed I hadn’t said anything. “Are you going to sell it?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.

There was a story behind the painting. It probably wouldn’t make much sense without seeing it, but I’m a bit reluctant about letting it out on the Internet, especially when I’m considering selling it. But I’ll describe it as best as I can.

Anyway.

I am not in a good state of mind. In the slightest. Nor was I when I was painting my picture. I don’t know if I ever will be again, (yes, that’s right, I used to be sane). But I can’t let people know that, otherwise I can’t be anything more than the ‘mental girl’. So I appear calm on the outside. I had used green in the background, and for my eyes, and I painted my hair a pretty blue. Calm colours, nice colours, they remind me of a meadow by a lake. I’ve also painted my clothing red, not bright red, just a muted, pretty colour. It doesn’t get much attention.

My face on the other hand, is bright yellow and orange, like a flame. I always feel like I’m burning up on the inside, the pain is bright and vibrant, and it hurts.

It’s not a good feeling.

I ask Daniel now. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Somewhat. But do you?”

I frown, and shake my head at his logic. “I feel like it’s too emotional,” I said slowly. “And too personal. I mean, it means something to me, about myself, and it’s not a very nice part about myself. It’s like giving away a secret, and for someone else to have that secret?”

“What do you know about secrets?”

I make a face. “Enough to know that it’s a bitch.”

He chuckles. “Silly Cat. A person only has a secret if they understand it completely. This person won’t know the truth unless you give it to them.”

“Then I’m selling a lie.”

He cracks up. “You are an idiot.”

“I believe that’s been established.”

He sighs. “What are you upset about? You could sell a painting, what’s wrong with that?”

I shake my head. “It just feels almost like I’m telling them about what’s really happening in my head.”

“Cat Louise Madigan,” Daniel says. “Will you remember this painting for the rest of your life?”

“I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “I could feel differently tomorrow about it, and I might want to sell the painting. On the other hand, what if I sell it and I’ll always want it?”

“Now you’re overthinking this,” Daniel said. Then he starts calling out “RED ALERT, RED ALERT! OVERTHINKING IN PROGRESS! INITIATE DISTRACTION!”

I hit him over his head with a book. “Better?” he asked.

“Much, thank you.”

Daniel lies back. “Ask your teacher more about it,” he says. “Don’t give it away practically for free, if it’s so precious. How much would you sell a secret?”

I actually don’t know. Here I am, writing up our conversation for millions of nonexistent readers to see, and I’m worrying about an implied message in a painting. “You’re right, I am an idiot,” I said.

He rolls his eyes. When I look back up, he’s gone. And I feel sad.

Damn you Daniel.