I Don’t Think I’m Afraid Of Change

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No.

I think I’m afraid of loss.

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Survival?

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“Staying Alive,” Daniel reads. There are three rounds. In each round, you will be presented with a scenario and then offered two choices. The decisions you make determine whether you stay alive or perish. You should always base your decisions on nothing more than the desire to keep yourself in existence. Also, each scenario should be taken at face value. The situation will be as described – there are no “tricks” – and you do not need to worry about other ‘what ifs’. At the end of the game you will discover if you have stayed alive or not, although, being a philosophical game, the verdict won’t be straightforward…”

“Oooooooh, like the Hunger Games?”

“Let’s see…” We click the continue button.

Scenario one: You have been chosen to go on a very important mission to Mars. You have no choice in this matter, you must go. But you can choose your means of transport.

One method is teletransportation. You will step into a scanner here on earth that will destroy your brain and body, while recording the exact state of all your cells. This information will be transmitted to a replicator on Mars – taking three minutes to arrive – which will then create a brain and body exactly like yours using entirely new materials. The person on Mars will look like you, think like you, in fact be indistinguishable from you. He or she will certainly feel as though they have merely fallen asleep on Earth and then woken up on Mars. This method is 100 per cent reliable.

The other method of transport is space travel. This is very risky and there is 50 per cent chance that the spacecraft will not complete the journey and you will die in transit. But if you do successfully take the spacecraft, then your body and brain won’t at any stage have been destroyed.

You must choose the option you think will give your self the biggest chance of surviving.

“I believe…” I tell Daniel. “That this is a trick question.”

“Oh?”

“In terms of staying alive…the spacecraft is the better option, as the teleporter is guaranteed to destroy me. Surviving, on the other hand…is a different issue.”

“So, tomayto or tomahto?”

You must choose the option you think will give yourself the biggest chance of surviving. If I’m to survive…” I click the teleporter option. “Aaaaand we’re on Mars.”

“Was it worth it, Cat Madigan?”

“It’s not the end of the world. Now…Life on Mars turns out not to be a bed of roses. In fact, two strange viruses have evolved on the planet which are causing a lot of problems. The first destroys body parts. Fortunately, medical science is very advanced, which means people can simply be given artificial limbs and organs as required. You’ve been hit pretty hard by this virus and, in fact, almost your entire body is now made up of artificial parts.

“However, there exists a second virus that attacks the brain. It is peculiarly nasty in that it doesn’t destroy the brain, rather it messes up the neural pathways, leading to a loss of memory and also a change in personality traits. One person who had the virus had been a successful author. Now he can’t write a word, but he’s become rather good at exotic dancing.” At this, Daniel cracks up. “It is indeed an odd virus. Do you want to read or not?”

“Very well.” Daniel finally calms down and reads. “Well, congratulations. You’ve been careless enough to get the second virus as well. Medics can get around it by Unfortunately, you have carelessly managed to catch the virus. Medics can get around the virus by replacing pieces of the brain with advanced forms of silicon chip. In your case, they would have to do this to almost all of your brain. But trials show that you can be sure that the result will be the total preservation of your memories, personality, plans, beliefs and so on, and a person as able to carry on living a normal life as is, well, normal.” He clears his throat. “Or you can succumb to the virus and undergo a huge character change and memory loss.”

“Go ahead.”

“Eh?”

“Let’s see what happens when you undergo the memory loss and character change.”

“Really? You’d give up all your memories? Lose the essence of who you are as a person?”

“Well, to be honest, before this trip to Mars, I wasn’t really worth anything. Let’s go with a new persona.”

“You’re worth something to me!”

“I know…but I hate myself more than you love me.”

“I beg to differ Cat Madigan.”

“I’ll just see what happens.”

“Hmmph….”

I read on. “Oh dear, the virus did go to work on you. But the good news is it’s now a few years later, and a cure has been found. What’s more, your new personality has had a chance to stabalise, even though it remains irrevocably changed and your old memories are lost forever.”

“Boohoo for you.”

Ignoring Daniel, I went on. “Strange as it may seem, it has been discovered that reincarnation of a sort does actually occur. It seems that there is some immaterial part – call it a soul – in all human beings. On death, it leaves the body and enters the body of a new-born animal or human. It does not take memory with it, of course. It is thought that it may have some effect in determining one’s character, but given the evidence for the strong influence of genes and upbringing, this effect is thought to be relatively small.

“Even stranger than the fact of reincarnation, it seems that our souls die if stored at below freezing point for longer than a week.

“These facts are vital to the last choice you must make. You are very ill, but scientists have almost found a cure for the disease you have. Further, they have also developed a technique to ‘deep freeze’ humans, enabling them to be revived later with their memories and character intact. You have two choices.

“The first choice is to let the disease take its toll. Your body will die, but your soul will live on. The second choice is to be deep frozen, then thawed and cured later. This will destroy your soul and only has a thirty per cent chance of success; that is, there is a 70 per cent chance that the thawing and curing won’t work.

“You must make the choice that you think will give your self the biggest chance of surviving.”

“These questions are cooking my brain.”

“Yeah…” I think for a moment. “I think I’ve destroyed my worthiness of a soul at this point anyway, based on my last few choices.”

“You, my dear,” Daniel tells me, “are too self destructive for your own good.”

“Tell me about it when we’re in hell. We can be bunk buddies.”

“…what do you mean by the word ‘bunk’?”

“Freeze,” I decide. “Now let’s see which circle of hell I’m going to.”

“The freezing, thawing and curing was a success. Well done, Cat Madigan, it is confirmed. You cannot die, not even in a hypothetical situation.”

“Yippee. Wait a minute…” I scan the rest of the page. “You were saying?”

Daniel reads the part I’m reading. “Your problem is that your set of choices ends all three types of continuity. By taking the teletransporter you end bodily continuity, since the body on Mars is a replica of yours, not the self same body. The virus destroys psychological continuity. And freezing destroys the soul. So all three of the things that might be required for personal identity are destroyed. So surely you must be dead.” He looks at me. “So you’ve destroyed everything that makes you you. Congratulations.”

“Mmhm.”

“Cat…” Daniel’s arms wrap around me and squeeze me tight. “You can’t hate yourself that much.”

“Can’t I?”

“No.”

“Maybe not…not all the time anyway.”

He kisses my neck. “Look at your first choice.”

“Teleportation? What of it?”

“You chose that over the rickety space ship. There was a fifty percent chance you’d die, as opposed to certain survival. And yet, you chose to survive.”

“Well what do you know? There’s hope for me yet.” I close my eyes.

“Mmhm.”

You’re Being Tortured In The Morning

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So because I am a lazy fuck who cannot spend more than ten minutes a day to finish writing up my memoirs from the imaginary world in my head, Daniel and I have found another way to keep my blog updated over the two weeks that we’ll be in Europe. Where it’s warm…. I’m sorry, I wanted to stress that fact to my friends who’ll be stuck in the Southern Hemisphere, where it’s cold and there’s not even snow to make it better. Anyway, I came across the website Philosophy Experiments during Religion, and Daniel and I got sucked in, and we went over god knows how many tests and quizzes which scrutinised our way of thinking.

And now I’m going to torture my nonexistent readers by describing every single quiz we went through. Starting with You’re Being Tortured In The Morning.
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“Here we go,” Daniel says. “You have fallen into the hands of Zach Coine, a mad and powerful scientist. He informs you he is going to torture you tomorrow morning. Not surprisingly, you find this idea rather terrifying.”

“Pfffffffffffft.”

“That’s not necessary Cat.”

“Sorry…this quiz doesn’t already take into account torture victims. Or mutants and imaginary paramours.”

“Cat…”

“Okay, I’ll shush.” I look up at him. “Really.”

“Good girl.” Daniel turns back to the iPad. “However, Professor Coine has some sort of barely functioning conscience so he’s decided to tell you a number of things about what’s going to happen in the hope that you’ll be reassured about your fate.”

“Awwww, that’s so sweet!” I said sarcastically.

“You promised you’d shush.”

“I am! I am shush-”

Daniel puts two fingers on my lips. “There. Better.” He scans the rest of the page. “Basically, each time you read something, you have to decide whether it calms you down a little bit.”

Unable to communicate verbally, I merely raise my eyebrows and snort. “Okay…let me rephrase that.” Daniel rolls his eyes. “You have to indicate whether or not what he says makes you more certain or uncertain of your fate. Whether it reassures you or not. Compri?

I nod. “Good girl. Now, there’s some things you should remember. One, everything Professor Coine tells you is the truth. Two, this test is only interested in how you find the prospect of being tortured. Basically whether you think you’d suffer or not during this event.” He frowns. “Whatever. Three, any wider moralistic or humanitarian worries you may have do not matter. Meaning, you can’t claim that you’ll never be safe because you’ll always know that there’s a violent psychopath out there. Four, you have to indicate how you feel about what the professor says in light of everything you know.”

I frown. “Mmm?”

“I think it means how what the professor says makes you feel about the current situation,” Daniel informs me. “Anyway, the last thing is that this is an online activity, so you’re not actually going to be fearful or reassured. There’s a thing called imagination….” He grins at me. “My, I have no idea where we would ever find that. Now let’s get started.”

“Mmm!”

“I’m not done talking though.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Fine…” He removes his hand from my face. “Personally, I think you show more through your body language than your words.”

I flutter my eyelashes at him.

“I rest my case. You may start.”

“Professor Coine tells you that when the time comes to torture you, he’ll ensure you have no memory of having been told in advance you were going to be tortured, so it’ll be a surprise when the torture begins. Reassured or no?” I frown. “Wait, so…I’m being told what’s going to happen to me, only to forget immediately after?”

“I take it, not reassuring?”

“Nuh uh.” I read the next statement. “Professor Coine also tells you that at the moment of torture you won’t be able to remember anything at all that you now remember. So I have amnesia? I don’t remember who I am?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had amnesia,” Daniel muses. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it’s like.”

“I would probably be more frightened if I didn’t know anything,” I said. “If I had my memories, I might be able to think of something else.”

“If you say so.”

“Professor Coine now states that not only will you not be able to remember anything that you now remember, but you’ll have an entirely different set of thoughts and impressions of your past…well shit.”

“Not assured?”

“Well…no. If I’m a whole other person, I’m still going to feel pain, aren’t I?”

“Indeed.”

“The mad professor now tells you that the new set of thoughts and impressions of your past will exactly match those of somebody who is currently alive, and in fact that they will be copied into your brain from the other person’s brain. Again, not helpful.” I continue on. “So basically, this whole conversation makes me no less fearful of what is to come.”

Daniel reads the next part. “We’ll return to the mad professor in a little while, but right now we have a different scenario for you to think about. This one also involves torture, but happily this time you have more control over what’s going to happen to you.”

“Yayyyy.”

“Two people,” Daniel reads, “are about to undergo an odd experience.”

“Boys and girls of every age, would you like to see something strange?” I sing.

Ignoring me, Daniel goes on. “The thoughts and memories of persons A and B will be exchanged with eachother. In this scenario, you’re A. After the experiment is complete, one body-person will receive one million dollars. The other gets tortured. You want to get the reward, and avoid the torture.”

“Gee, I dunno…I’m kinda in the mood for getting my skin torn and my bones broken.” Daniel looks at me. “I’m into some fucked up shit.”

“Moving on…you get to choose which body-person is to be rewarded, and by doing so, also deciding who gets tortured. So what’s it gonna be?”

“So…I’m person A. But A’s memories are now in B. Does that make me B then?”

“You tell me.”

“…physically I am person A. Even with my memories have gone, I’m still A, and I’ll still feel the pain. I’d want to avoid that.”

“You’d be another person.”

“Is that meant to get me to change my mind?”

“This…” Daniel announces, “is deep shit.”

“Yeah…” I press the option which says Reward Body-Person A, Torture Body-Person B. I read the next part. “Good news. In common with 29% of the 43934 people who have completed this activity, you are showing no sign of Identity Confusion Syndrome. What even is that?”

“Let me read the rest.” Daniel scans the next few paragraphs. “I think they’re saying that you understand that even though your memories are gone, the person being tortured is still you.”

“So…cool?”

We continue to read the reasoning behind it. “I think I get it,” I say to Daniel. “If I chose B, it would be because I believe that I myself was now person B, and that I wouldn’t be tortured, because the person carrying my memories would be safe. But just because your memories are inside someone else doesn’t mean that they are you.”

“I…think I understand?”

I try explaining. “Imagine the idea that your memories are not your own, but someone else’s. It’s only now that you have become aware of this fact. So, who are who?”

“Well…I have Daniel’s thoughts and memories…and apart from what I used to see in Delirium those are the only ones I have…so I’m Daniel.”

“Bingo!” I kiss his cheek.

“Right answer?” He smiles shakily.

“Uhhuh. Even though your memories are in another person, you do not identify with that other person. You aren’t that person, as far as you’re concerned. Therefore, to choose B, just because your ‘true’ memories are inside them, would be silly. You’re person A still.”

“O…..kaaaaaay…”

“…did I make it more confusing?”

“Actually no. I’m starting to get a grip around it.”

“Good. Because it’s time for recess.” Fooooooooooooood, my inner voice growls.

“There’s one thing that interests me,” he says as we walk out.

“Do tell.”

“Imagine applying this to you and Kaya,” he says. “You’ve experienced her memories, and vice versa. You know her as well as you know yourself, and vice versa. Does that mean that you are Kaya?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“…it’s not possible. I know her. She’s a separate entity to me. Isn’t she?”

Daniel Comes To School

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Daniel is not religious. In case you haven’t figured that out already by his behaviour in church.

Neither are my parents actually. Apparently Mum used to believe in God, but not anymore. And now it seems like she rejects religion completely, except for that one commandment where apparently we have to obey our parents. All that religion is in her eyes is a moneymaking industry preying on the vulnerability of the masses.

I’m not sure about my father, as I haven’t spent enough time with him to know this. Like me, he’s interested in the history part of this, but he doesn’t go to church. I know very little about my father, when I think about it.

Daniel summed up his beliefs to me in class. “I’ve never really believed in a God,” he told me. “And since…” His voice trailed off, indicating the Delirium we both lived in. “I can’t really fathom the idea of a man who simultaneously controls several worlds at the same time, each with their own set of ethics.” He grimaced. “It’s a bit two-faced when you think about it. Saying that you must be kind to one another to one set of people, and telling the other that it is your right to commit sin.”

“Maybe God’s got serious personality issues?”

“Or maybe there’s several Gods, and each is struggling to take control of the infinite worlds. Earth and Delirium are controlled by separate gods.”

“Interesting…does that mean that our god took us there so that we could dominate that world?” I wrinkled my nose.

“That would be a cruel god.”

“Silly Daniel…who said that gods had to be nice?” I returned.

Miss S is the most awesome teacher ever. Not only does she spoil us rotten, but she’s also probably the only teacher who I’ve been honest with about the true nature of my blackouts. She often misses lessons, and she confided in me why; she has epilepsy, and she’s always worrying about losing control during class.

One time, after a particularly bad episode, she came to me after class and asked me about my condition. And that was when Daniel, at that moment standing behind Miss S, told me to tell her.

Why? I frowned at him.

“You need to confide in at least one teacher,” he said. “In case something bad happens and Willis or Flash or anyone else aren’t there to help. And if Kaya loses it…”

I just closed my eyes. The problem with people is that they believe they’re doing the right thing, but ‘the right thing’ doesn’t mean the same to all people. And I did not know what ‘the right thing’ would be for Miss S. She was cool, don’t get me wrong. But would that prevent her from informing my parents?

“Okay…think of it this way,” Daniel said. “Say that Kaya does lose it. Would you want her to be near when that happens?”

No one’s safe, I thought.

“Doesn’t matter about that.” Daniel anticipated my train of thought. “If she knows, she can protect herself. And others, if may be.” He came to my side and put his arm around me. “I think that she might be able to understand at least a little bit.”

So I told her. And she didn’t tell anyone else. Or my parents. She asked what my blackouts were like, and I gave her the basics; essentially, I went into my own little world, and that during that time, I had no awareness of what happened in Reality. At one point, I accidentally slipped up and mentioned that I was often attacked by shadows, which lead me to talking about Daniel. I didn’t dwell too long on him, but Miss S seemed satisfied with the knowledge that he took care of me. I believe that she’s under the impression that Daniel’s my own age though, which I suppose is okay.

I do wonder occasionally what her reaction would be if she could see Daniel as he was; a grown man who, in any responsible adult’s eyes, had nothing more than an eyepatch, smooth words and an extremely bad record when it came to babysitting. Not to mention a potential alcohol problem.

“Don’t forget badassery.”

And a very, very large ego.

Anyway…Daniel was with me in Religion when we were discussing Natural Law, where both of us got to listen to how much less violent it was compared to the world we struggled to survive in.

Concerning Genetic Selection…

“I want my child to be attractive as possible,” Bell said. Instantly, the room was filled with boos, and in my case, laughter. “C’mon, if anyone says that ‘looks don’t matter’, you, are a liar,” she claimed. “That’s the way society is; success is largely contributed to good looks and charisma, and if that means that my kids would be happy, then that’s what I’d want for them.”

“Kind of got a point there,” Daniel said. When I looked at him, he went on. “Think of Delirium. You’ve seen Christan’s friends. What can you make of them other than the fact that they are, in their eyes, beautiful?”

“Not that much,” I admitted. “Still, this is Reality.”

“Is it really that different?” he retorted. “People in the spotlight are beautiful, the rest are largely ignored until disaster strikes.”

“Like suicide?”

“That’s one example. There’s no need to think along those specific lines though…”

“Still…accident, murder, environmental disaster…they all have one thing in common.”

“Hmm…”

“I get what you’re saying though,” I continued. “Physical beauty is an advantage in worlds like ours. It gives you the influence you need to succeed, and from there…”

“The rest relies on your own skills though,” Daniel concluded. “Influence is fickle; it only lasts if you make it last.”

“Mmhm. But I still think it’s wrong to genetically alter your child…how different would I be if I was designed by my parents.”

“Very.” Daniel frowned. “I wonder how different I would be…”

I didn’t know what he meant.

Concerning materialism vs common ownership…

“Common ownership worked for the Helevians,” Daniel said.

“But they were the most beautiful civilisation in the world. And they weren’t corrupted with manipulative bastards or naive little boys who are encouraged to indulge themselves in anyway they want.”

“Oh, there were manipulative bastards,” Daniel confirmed. “It’s just Nereida and her father were wiser than Christan is.”

“I miss Nereida,” I told him.

“You two didn’t interact much though,” Daniel pointed out.

He was right about that. Whenever I encountered Nereida in Reality, she’d just watch me, before vanishing without a word. The rest of the time, I saw Nereida through Kaya’s eyes. “Still. It would be nice if Delirium had people like Nereida still,” I said wistfully.

“She once said we were alike.”

“How so?” I frowned.

He grimaced. “I have a feeling that she may have been referring to our…sense of humour.”

“Oh yeah…” Another reason why I wish Nereida was alive; she was an even bigger pervert than Daniel. And perverts are wonderful people.

“She was strong,” Daniel continued. “Everyone talks of how Kaya suffered the most. But Nereida suffered too. She lost her father. And then the espers killed her childhood friends one by one, and then…”

“Whatever must be done must be done with grace,” I quoted. “Till the end.”

“On one hand, people are more likely to cherish the objects that they have earned,” Miss S explained. “On the other, peace is more likely to be maintained if everyone owns the same thing.”

“The thing is, it’s human nature to always want more,” Bell argued.

“But isn’t peace more important?” Payne asked. “I’d rather everyone was able to get the same than own my own things.”

Daniel scoffed. Payne was one of those goody goody students, and she looked down on me for my occasional disinterest in class. She was, as my mother put it, one of those people who prayed for the poor loudly in church, and kicked them away on the way out the door. One day, she was the lucky one to discover me coming out of the bathroom with blood on my face. All I can really remember of that specific encounter is that she spent the whole time trying to get the truth out of me, while it was up to Daniel to make sure I washed my mouth out and rehydrated. At the end of it, I told Payne that she couldn’t help me and that she would immediately regret hearing the truth when I told it, much to her frustration.

Concerning Stealing…

“It’s wrong,” Payne-in-the-ass said automatically.

“But what if you really needed something but you couldn’t afford it?” I retorted.

“Like what?” she scoffed.

“Oh, I dunno. Food, medicine, clean water,” I proposed. “What if I were homeless and I had to get out of the cold or I’d die of hypothermia?”

“That’s what your parents are-”

I nearly laughed at that. “You’re missing the point. If you were stuck out in the cold, and the only option would be to squat in an empty store or house or something, that would be stealing. So is that wrong?”

Daniel was grinning. This argument went on until it was time to go to Maths, and he stayed behind with me to pick up my books. “You’d make a great lawyer,” he told me.

“God no.” I made a face. “I would be stammering non stop in front of a judge.”

“Not really. You can hold your own in an argument. And you can figure out the inconsistencies in what people say.”

“Not immediately though. I need time to think about things. Lawyers need to be on their feet all the time, processing everything immediately. If I did that, I’d go-” At that, I sigh. “Well, I guess I’m too late already.”

Miss S smiled at me as I walked out. “You did well,” she said. “I like the way you think.”

“Really?” Before I could continue, she had already vanished.

“Is it really too hard to believe you’re good at something?”

“I’m sorry, what am I good at again?”

“Thinking.”

“…maybe.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

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I think Hollywood exaggerates how people wake up from a nightmare.

Rather than screaming and alerting everyone in the neighbourhood to the fact that you had a bad dream, I think the most that happens is you jump in your sleep, just when the psychopath raises his blade, or you stumble off the rocky cliff. Then after that, you have a mini freak out because it was so vivid, and you’re trying to become readjusted to reality. But not the whole screaming thing, not unless the pain keeps going.

Is it bad luck to have a nightmare on my birthday by the way?

Yes, non existent reader, Cat Madigan’s birthday has come upon us. And I’m not certain how to feel about it. You see, I am now officially at that age that I am allowed to do all the shit that now even 13 year olds are doing. It’s meant to be a milestone, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way for me.

And for the record, no, I have not started doing said stuff yet. I am not so fucked up that I’m doing that yet.

So, Cat Madigan, what super exciting stuff did you do for your birthday?

Stuff all.

Well, that’s not entirely correct. We’re having cake tonight, now that my father’s home. And next week, I’m having my birthday party in the most ladylike sport ever. What’s that? It is not considered ladylike to scream “DIE BASTARD DIE!” while shooting lasers at them? Oh.

But yeah, I haven’t been doing much thus far. It’s been a pretty ordinary weekend. But because there hasn’t been very much celebrating, I’ve had time to think, (gasp! Not thinking!) and as it always does, my mind started to wonder about the world. More specifically, why do we celebrate birthdays?

It makes you think: why do we celebrate the fact that we’re another year older? That we’re another step closer to death?

Perhaps it’s to congratulate the fact that we’ve managed to stay alive for another year. Which for me, is definitely an accomplishment. Between fights and near death experiences (well, at least near death delusional experiences), I’m really surprised that I’m still here. So I’m quite proud of myself for lasting this long. A year’s a long time when you think about it.

Of course, behind every nice thing, there’s another, darker side to it. Well, this isn’t necessarily dark. But not only are birthdays a celebration of life, but they’re also a wonderful way for companies to make money. You hear it all the time, marketers urging you to buy this for your child’s birthday, or those bright posters announcing the new insert product here, that make you think of your friend’s upcoming 21st. Be honest now; how many of you automatically think of presents when someone mentions birthdays? Yeah…me too. :p

But it’s not just birthdays; our world is increasingly materialistic, we’ve become very selfish human beans. We have reached that place where all of our essential needs are met, and because we don’t actually need anything else, we start focusing on how we can keep ourselves entertained. And there are a LOT of ways to entertain a human bean; we’re like cats, we get distracted easily.

The problem with surrounding ourselves with material goods, is that we’re able to distract ourselves with a snap of our fingers. And being distracted 24/7 means you have very little room for thinking. Though for some reason I always find a way. :p Dammit brain… But you ordinary humans forget to think; which is why our minds automatically jump to presents whenever there’s a certain event coming up. Christmas? Yay, presents! Easter? Choccy eggs! Valentines Day? …never mind. (*internal sobbing*)

The point I’m trying to make is that nowadays, we often forget to consider the non material joy we get out of holidays like this. Like how we get to spend time with friends and family, (well, spending time with my ‘family’ for me). And that’s the ‘dark’ side of birthdays. I dunno if it was particularly dark, but it’s one of the negatives about birthdays I guess.

So why, Cat Madigan, do you think we celebrate the day of our birth?

I have no idea. Well, actually, I have several, as seen above, but I cannot make up my mind. They all seem pretty likely, but there has to be a reason behind us actually wanting to celebrate. I guess that the reason we choose to celebrate it in those ways is because the alternative is to realise that we’re another year older, another foot in the grave. It’s not so much of a bother yet, as I’m not an adult yet, but judging from what I’ve seen of my mother and other whiny adults (I’m such a horrible child), it’s not a pretty realisation.

Overall, birthdays give us a cause to celebrate, and whatever reason you have behind it, whether it be financial gain, or a way to meet up with friends, it’s a good way to take your mind off things and enjoy yourself. And it reminds you how much people actually care about you, for they’re willing to go out of their way to make you happy, if only for a day.

So here is Question of the Day! What’s your favourite holiday memory? It doesn’t have to be a birthday, it could be Christmas, Easter, Valentines Day (lucky imaginary bastards…), whatever you like.

In other news, I got photos from a catwalk show I did on Thursday. Be prepared for a rant about modelling soon. Also, only two days before my Internet returns, oh I’ve missed you my beloved iPad….

Mad Cat.