Insert Obligatory-Christmas-Post-Title Here

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First of all, Merry Christmas. I know it’s a day late, but I don’t really care. When it comes to Christmas, we usually celebrate it on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. Christmas Day gets spent flying between cities.

Second of all, this is the first Christmas that I’m not spending with my cousins interstate, which has it’s ups and downs. Ups being that I don’t need to put up with jet lag or my paternal cousins who break everything I love. Downs being that I don’t get to see my other cousins in Sydney and watch the Doctor Who Christmas Special.

By the way, I like Capaldi. Not as much as I liked Matt Smith, but I like how they made a Doctor who questions himself and wonders if he’s ‘a good man’, now that he’s no longer charismatic and charming. What I don’t like now is Clara. I feel that as much as I like Twelve, he’s really not good for Clara. Or maybe Clara is just a worse person than they made her out to be when she was with Eleven. Either way, she just becomes so much more annoying this season; she lies to the Doctor and her boyfriend even after they realise eachother’s existence, and she just comes across as self righteous in everything that she does. Maybe that was their intention, but I found that no matter how capable Clara was, I just got tired of her being so ‘goody goody’ and preachy to the Doctor, who was having enough trouble figuring out his moral compass as it was, while being able to get away with her own bullshit because she’s Clara. It frustrated me how Danny was constantly fine with her lying to him and not even trying to be honest with him, which I guess made him more endearing to the audience, but I feel like Clara didn’t get any comeuppance for it, unless his death is somehow karma coming back to bite her in the ass.

Also, the Mistress. I called that shit.

Third (actual) topic on the agenda: The debate over whether 2014 was better than 2013. Let’s do that now.

Reasons why 2014 sucked

-Everybody DIED. And it fucking SUCKED.

-Two hospitalisations for suicidal ideation. One of which I don’t even remember.

-Delirium isn’t completely gone, even after I spent a year trying to stop it from coming back in my head. And yes, I’m working on writing about that, leave me alone.

-Still single, and have been so for a year. More if you count in Delirium time.

-Being forced to actually deal with my depression and anxiety instead of running away into the world in my head to kill monsters and be a badass. I miss being a badass. Even if it tore me out emotionally, it made me feel like there was something good about myself.

-Frigging. Humans. Stabbing. You. In. The. Back. Yes, I’m looking at you Delamore. And fuck you. If I’m not important enough to even say hello to, then you aren’t worth any more of my time. Also, sisters before misters. Remember that before you lose all your friends.

Okee, now that I’m done verbally abusing people, I’m going to list Everything that didn’t suck about 2014:

-I’ve been doing a lot more modelling than previous years, which is awesome. I’ve met so many people and done so many things that I would never have been able to do otherwise. And I’m in a place where I can organise my own projects with people I know, which is even more awesome.

-When I say that Delirium isn’t completely gone, I mean that my pesky imaginary friend/paramour still stays around to ‘protect’ me from myself. The actual world of Delirium, which I’ve spent the past few years falling into, hasn’t been apart of my life for the past few months. So now, there’s nothing holding me back from making a full recovery. This is a good thing.

-I’ve been getting more action this year than I did last year. Which is ironic considering how last year I was in two relationships and I’ve been single the whole of this year. As much as I enjoy being in a relationship, being single is surprisingly rewarding, despite how much I complain about it.

-A continuation on why it’s better now Delirium’s gone; I’m becoming more confident in my abilities. Things get a lot easier when you’re certain that everything around you is real. I’m confident enough that I’m now writing for a magazine as a volunteer writer. Some of my stuff has even been published. But I’m not going to post them up here in case my secret identity is revealed and it follows me for the rest of my life. Sawry.

So when all that is compared to 2013, where I had two relationships end, one suicide attempt, growing hallucinations and one stint at homelessness, things have gotten a lot better for me when you think about it.

Fourth item on the agenda; explaining shit.

Concerning the matter of Delamore and the reason surrounding my negative outlook on her. I suppose if I don’t explain it now, I probably never will, so I’ll give a brief explanation. If Delamore is reading this, I just want you to know that I read your messages to Bad Dog, and if you’re going to call me a self absorbed attention seeker behind my back, then I really don’t want to be your friend anymore, even if what I suspect about you isn’t true.

So what do I suspect you of? I think you’re a liar. I think you lied to Bad Dog, to Snugglepot, and to me. I think that you manipulate people to get your way and cut people out if they’re not important enough to you. I don’t care if you don’t want me in your life, but if you lie to me and go out of your way to hurt me, then I no longer have any reason to care about what happens to you. Just remember that. If you care enough to read about my life, that is.

So now I’ve finished talking to an imaginary Delamore, I’ll explain the situation. Snugglepot had a Halloween party and invited me at the last minute. Delamore, who was in charge of the guest list, hadn’t invited me, and didn’t even know that Snugglepot had added me at the last second till the day before the party. Later in the afternoon, Snugglepot informed me that Delamore said that at least ten people had threatened to not come to the party if I was coming, and so I shouldn’t come after all. So I spent the next few days depressed and humiliated. Until Papa Willis informed me that apparently this wasn’t the case at all. That people didn’t hate my guts and had refused to attend an event that I was going to. To be honest, I don’t know what to believe. Maybe Willis is wrong. But that’s the rundown of the situation.

Okay. Rant over. Goddammit, it’s Christmas. It’s not nice being pissed on Christmas.

Also, Togami. This is what happened. We’ve hung out a couple of times, and we disclosed to eachother that neither of us wanted to be in a relationship if we weren’t sure there was a chance of it being love. So we’re not going out.

We’re just fooling around instead.

Much to someone’s disapproval.

So that’s what’s happened. See? So much easier to explain. And with that, I believe it’s the end up this Christmas update.

“I don’t care. It’s your body. Do what you want.”

“Thankyou.”

“…don’t hurt yourself.”

“…I don’t plan to.”

“Does anyone?”

“I know…you’re saving me from myself.”

“Someone has to.”

“Shush.”

Stress Relief

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Or to be more specific, boredom relief. But stress relief sounds better as a title.

You see, my Sunday’s total food intake was eight Mars bars, six Snickers bars and two strawberry Bulla bars. It was only after I had finished devouring that second chocolate covered strawberry flavoured deliciousness that I realised “Oh fuck, I’m going to turn into a ball of lard by February.”

So, I applied for a volunteer writing position at a magazine. It was just a local one, but it was that type of magazine where I could write about things that I enjoyed. Such as talking about my mental problems. Well, to an extent. Anyway, the interview went a lot more optimistically than I thought it would.

It was a colourful underground studio with murals covering the walls. As soon as I entered, I knew that my mind was going to be engaged for hours looking around at everything. Damn short attention span. More people came in and we started talking more about what the magazine was about.

Basically their main categories were Music, Art, Fashion, Theatre, Social Issues, Politics, Film, you know, that stuff that your parents discourage you from getting into when it comes to career choices, because it doesn’t pay as well as say medicine, or law, or business, or drug dealing. Luckily for me, the category I was interested in, social issues, had plenty of availabilities, though I could always write for other topics if I wanted. And I start on Monday next week. It’s pretty cool.

So for once, things are looking good.

Well, with the exception of my trust issues flaring up once again. They do that. Especially when it comes to strange humans.

Seriously, why do I let myself interact with the human race? What’s it with me and throbbing emotional pain that I find so addicting? And I’m getting better for fucks sake! Supposedly.

Sigh…

For those who can’t speak Cat Madiganese, after the interview, I remained behind with another strange human to wait for the managing human of the magazine to discuss stuff. After the managing human phoned in saying that they couldn’t come in today, the strange human asked if I wanted to go get lunch.

“I already ate,” I told him. “Plus I’m poor. Lunch with me would basically be me watching you eat food.”

“Okay. Do you want to come and watch me eat food then?”

“Um, okay. Why not?” I didn’t have shit to do that day. I already did a makeup thing in the morning and I didn’t have to be home till 4 in the afternoon. Not to mention if I was going to be working amongst strange humans, I might as well get used to them.

“So I take it from the interview that you write a bit about mental health stuff?” he asked.

“Um, yeah. It’s…just something that I’ve had to deal with a lot for the past few years. Usually I just use it in fiction and things like that, but yeah.”

“What sort of stuff do you write?”

“Well…pretty random things,” I admitted. “Mainly short stories at the moment. I like psychological, philosophical stuff. Things that make me think.”

“Cool, I did a lot of that stuff in uni,” he told me.

“I thought you said you did programming at Murdoch?”

“Oh yeah, but I helped around as a lab assistant for my friend, when he was working on his thesis.”

“What was he researching?”

“Well, basically his research was looking at if it was possible to change a person’s way of thinking using electrodes and stuff like that,” the strange human informed me.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that stuff. Well, I mainly looked at the ways of thinking. You know CBT?”

“Yeah, cognitive behavioural therapy.”

“Yeah, I just had a look into it. My psych gave me a few pages on thinking patterns. It’s pretty cool. Only thing is I can now see all the bad ways my friends think.”

“Yeah…self diagnosing isn’t a good thing to do though.”

“Well…technically I’m doing it to other people…but yeah, I get your point.”

“Yeah, there’s just too many people going “Oh, I’ve diagnosed myself with schizophrenia or PTSD” or whatnot. I mean, sure, maybe that’s the problem, but if that is the case then maybe you should get it checked out by, say, someone who actually knows what they’re talking about?”

I thought of the girls at school who talked about struggling with depression before sniggering about someone who had scars on her arms. “Yeah, I get what you mean,” I said sadly.

“Really? Because I just looked back on what I said and thought “Wow, what an asshole.”

I laughed. “Nah, it’s okay. You’ve got a point, some people tend to make things like this become a trend. It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s an actual illness nowadays. It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you’ve got a point.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said it.”

We entered the cafe, he offered me the comfy booth seat and ordered his lunch; deep friend squid, beer and cheesecake. “Want one?”

“Nah. I can have icecubes.” I slipped one in my mouth and crunched down on it.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you’re what, sixteen?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Seventeen. And I don’t even like drinking anyway.”

“So you have drank?”

“Once in Europe on a cruise,” I confirmed. “But it tasted like crap.”

“You’ll probably change your mind at some point,” he said. “Everyone does. It usually comes with the knowledge that life is shit and that it’s nicer when you’re plastered.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it. But yeah, based on everything that has happened these past few years, it’s probably better that I stay clean. I don’t wanna relapse.”

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point. Well, you’re smart enough to make your own decisions.”

I burst out laughing. “Yeah, no.”

“Well, you’re doing better than I did two years ago.” Strange Human took a sip of beer to prove his point.

Later on…

“Aww, why did I order cake?” Strange Human complained.

“Yeah…probably should’ve waited until you finished actual lunch before ordering dessert.”

“Hey, do I look like the sort of person that learns from life’s decisions?”

“Yeah, true.” I grinned at him cheekily.

“Hey!” He cracked up. “That’s not how this conversation’s meant to go. You were meant to reinforce the fact that I’m actually a good person and make me feel better about myself!”

“Yeah. I wanted to see your reaction though. Humans are funny.”

“Hey, you’re one of us. Get used to it.”

I shrugged.

“Now, do you want this cheesecake? It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

“It’s okay, I’m fine for food.”

“Pleaaaaaase? Wait, let me sell you this cheesecake.” He held it up to his face and smiled seductively.

I covered my face with my hand. “Oh god, don’t,” I giggled. It didn’t help things that he looked like Byakuya Togami from Dangan Ronpa and actually could’ve passed as a cheesecake model. “C’mon! You’re taking advantage of the fact that I’m a complete idiot when it comes to laughing!”

“Everyone hates how they laugh,” he replied, still modelling with the cheesecake.

I groaned. “If I eat it, will you stop?”

“Yes please.”

“Fine.” He held out the spoon and I took it. “Meanie. Now my face is red.”

“Shush and eat.”

I stuck out my tongue.

Even later…

“Tell me something interesting about yourself.”

“…ummmmmmm.”

“C’mon. There’s gotta be something.”

“Weeeeeeeell, to be honest, most of the interesting stuff about me….also happens to be in the same sorta category as depressing stuff.”

“Oh…now I feel bad, can I give you a hug?”

“Yeah, okay.” He moved over to the booth seat and put his arm around me. Then he brought his beer over to my side of the table. “Was that just so that you could sit in the comfy seat?”

“What? Awww, I’m not that bad a human being!”

“Yeah, I know. Just teasing.”

“Meanie.” He elbowed me. Which resulted in an elbow off which lasted about ten minutes.

Finally….

“I need to go home,” I told him.

“Where do you go from here?”

“Oh, I just need to go to the bus station.”

“Cool, do you mind if I walk you? I need to go to the train station anyway.”

“Oh yeah, you live in Thornlie. Yeah…if you want.”

We paid the bill, well, he paid the bill, and we walked out. “I thought of something kinda sort of interesting,” I volunteered.

“Oh?”

“I made my ball dress for my school ball.”

“Oh nice! What does it look like?”

“I….uh….it’s…I dunno!”

“Well, I’ll probably understand the technical terms if that makes it easier.”

“Oh yeah, you’re a fashion photographer. Okay….yeah, it really doesn’t. I’m not good with…verbalising things.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’ve gotta pick it up on Monday anyway. Chances are you’ll end up seeing it anyway.”

“Cat!” A girl’s voice called out.

I waved back. “Hey Elle!”

“Hi random human!” Togami called back. I cracked up. “Who’s she?”

“Oh, she’s a friend of mine. She’s pretty nice. Her boyfriend doesn’t like me though. Not that I care.”

“Oh? Is he an ex?”

“God no.”

“Then what is he?”

“Oh, just someone who slept with my ex.”

“You’re a lesbian?”

“Nope,” I replied. He thought for a moment. “Think it through.”

“Ohhhhhhh.”

At bus stop…

“So you’re starting Monday?” Togami asked.

“Yup. Monday Wednesday and Friday, till I get assigned.”

“Well I’ll see you then.” He gave me a hug and let go. He frowned at me. “Are you single by any chance?”

“Um, yeah.” I looked down. “For a pretty good reason too. Because I’m mad.”

Togami looked at me for a moment before leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. “It was nice meeting you,” he told me.

“…thanks. You too.” I stepped onto the bus. “I’ll see you Monday,” I told him. He waved and started walking to the train station.

So that was the cause of my anxiety flare up. Because the only reason I could see a human showing interest in me in that manner was because they were Ted Bundy and they were going to rape and torture me. Or sell me into human trafficking. Or something BAD.

Goddammit.

Mad Cat Begins

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Yup. I’m doing the challenge again. Because I think it’s also important for me to talk about how I started writing this thing. Yes, superpowers and the story behind them are cool, but I feel like I need to remind myself why I started a blog and why I write the things that I do. So stuff people who want to hear about my friend in Delirium, and how I became a dominatrix for a day. That’s for later. Papa Willis will be first though, because that’s actually important.

So a year ago, I was in a bad place. Every night I would dream of going out to The Lake of Ghosts, and I would die. I think that would’ve been when I started going into Delirium on my own instead of seeing it from someone else’s eyes. I’m really not sure now. I should’ve been writing down what happened in my episodes, but I didn’t. I really regret not writing down my memories now.

So one night, after things got particularly bad, I filled the sink with water, and held my head underneath it. It wasn’t the most creative suicide plan, or the most elegant. But I was willing to go through with it, and I would make myself hold my head underwater until the end.

I changed my mind though. Obviously. Otherwise this wouldn’t be a blog about my adventures in Reality and Delirium. This would have a different name, maybe my real name. And instead of those stories, those mad ridiculous stories, there would be a eulogy of my short wisp of a life, containing all the little things in my Reality. It probably wouldn’t even exist. My parents would’ve announced my death, got the funeral over with, and tried to move on. Would’ve they said it was suicide? Maybe. If it were blindingly obvious.

Either way, the logical side of my brain kicked in, and I thought Why was I doing this?

I had become tired of the nightmares. I didn’t want to die the way I was in my dreams. And I just wanted to be out of pain. It seemed like the only option.

But…if I was going to die because of the visions, right there, with my head in the bathroom sink, that meant the vision wasn’t true.

And I was going to throw my life away over nothing.

So I quickly yanked my head out, coughed out a lung or two, and had a long talk with my friend after. I felt like the most stupid person on the face of the earth, and it would be at least a month before I could stand water again.

I got better though. Well, my depression did. Temporarily anyway. I decided that I was tired of keeping everything cooped up inside me, where it would just linger and mess with my head. But if I spoke out loud about what was happening to me, people would point and say “Hey look! There’s the schizophrenic girl who raves on about an imaginary world!”

So I write about it instead.

I have two styles of writing. And one of them is Ranting. My best example of this would be Bandaids. That one was a bitch to write, I kept crying the whole time. Ranting is essentially me writing about things which have happened and relaying how I feel about it.

The other one is usually used when I’m writing about Delirium, and when I use it, I feel like afterwards it sounds like I’m writing fiction. That bothers me a bit, but for some reason, I prefer writing it that way. This way, I feel like I can remember things from Delirium more clearly. Of course, there’s some things I’d rather forget. But I have to make myself write about the bad things too. Because they’re important too. I need to get them out of my system as well.

Sometimes it’s hard to remember what happens in Delirium. I have days where I can remember everything crystal clear, and others where everything is a blur. That’s probably why I’m behind on explaining what happened with my friend in Delirium. I’m getting there though. Tomorrow, that will be posted. I reckon that the longer I’ve been in Delirium, the longer I can remember things for afterwards. Of course, I remember the key events. I just get a little slow on the details.

Occasionally, it does feel like I’m writing fiction. When I’m remembering it all, I sometimes wonder how I managed to do whatever I had done. Cat Madigan in Delirium can seem like a different person than Cat Madigan in Reality, and I would never have the courage to do in Reality what I do in Delirium.

The killing is one of those things. I get scared about what I do in Delirium, and I contemplate whether or not I could do so in Reality. But it’s more than just being able to take a life. I feel stronger in Delirium. Maybe it’s the superpowers I mentioned yesterday, but I am willing to talk back more. I can speak clearer, act faster. Basically, I feel like I can be more than a useless freak of nature.

I do feel hopeless at times though. No one can control what happens to them, and that goes for me too in Delirium. I wish to god I could change what happened there. Not just to me. I wish that Jhaq didn’t get hurt, I wish that Kaya didn’t have to die, I wish that the world there wasn’t going to ruins. You would think I’d be able to change what happened. But the fact is, I really don’t.

I might be an author when I write on here. But when it comes to Delirium, and the mad, twisted things that happen there, it’s someone else who’s in control of that story.

100 Likes!

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Who woulda thunk? It’s been six months since I started writing this stuff, and it has been somewhat enjoyable one hundred times! That’s pretty cool.

“So, what are you going to do to celebrate?”

“Well Daniel, I’m going to post a selfie from modelling.”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, I put a filter on it. And even without the filter, you’d have to look pretty hard to tell that it’s me.”

“Fair enough. Have I seen this one?”

“Nah, this was from today.”

“Nice! Show me the money!”

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“You….weren’t kidding, it really doesn’t look like you.”

“Told you.”

“What happened to your hair?”

“Got put in a scarf. I like it.”

“I DON’T.”

“Daniel…”

“You don’t look like you!”

“Do you think I’d be posting it if I did?”

“Argh…”

Anyway, I’d just like to say thankyou to all of you imaginary readers who take a minute out of their day to read the whingings of a very mentally ill teenage girl and her loudmouthed imaginary friend. It just gives me that little extra motivation to keep writing, and that gives me the clarity I obviously need when it comes to this world.

So thankyou. ^_^

Entering VOTY 2014!

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“Cat Madigan, what have you done?”

“Nothing.”

“…then why are you repeating the word stupid over and over?”

“Because I am stupid. That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong, it’s an observation anyone can make.”

“Well why are you realising it just now then?”

“Because, Daniel, I’ve entered a blogpost in a competition!”

“…really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I understand now.”

“Thank you. May I continue?”

“Of course, right after this message. Ladies, if you’re single and searching, let me-”

WHACK!

“Oooh, the lady is jealous I see.”

“Shut up Daniel.”

So, I entered my post Bandaids in the 2014 Voices of the Year Awards. I have no idea why, I had no idea what I was doing when I entered, and now I’m thinking “Well that was stupid.”

But I may as well make the most of it.

If any of you nonexistent readers are interested in voting for my depression induced rant, you can vote here. I enjoy writing on this blog, even though I don’t always update, and hopefully with school and stuff, I’ll still be able to.

The one thing I’m always worried about is the idea of my parents reading what I’ve written. Honestly, if they read one post on here, they would either lock me in my room or lock me in an asylum. An asylum wouldn’t be too bad. Think about it from an insane person’s point of view. In other words, think of it from a cheerful schizophrenic’s point of view; there would be a room ALL BED.

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And it comes with a comfy looking hug jacket!

Nah, I would hate it, not being able to slap Daniel when I feel like it.

“So glad to be an outlet for your violent outbursts, mistress.”

“Thankyou Daniel.”

If you’ve made an entry in the competition yourself, tell me about it, so I know who to vote for. After all, I’m not going to win.

Love Cat Madigan, and Daniel too.

The F@ck You List…Part TWO

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Energy Status: Depleted. Utterly depleted.

Which makes no sense, considering how pretty much all I’ve done today is watch Pewdiepie and The Fine Brothers.

Maybe I should do something mentally stimulating…

Okay…time to get up. Yaaaaaaaaawn.

What should I talk about today? Something that won’t make me come across as a bitchy teenager who hates everything in the twenty first century.

That certainly narrows the field down.

Stuff it. Let’s whine about 2013 again!

Or…I could just finish the F@ck you list.

I believe I had gotten up to 25 last time, I’m going to try to get 50 things this time.

So, f@ck you:

26- Facebook. Thanks to you, the only way I can talk to people is by depending on Internet and faceless communication.

27- Candy Crush. I don’t care for you, and your brainwashed zombie minions who continue to invite me to play you can’t change that. Also, how many times have I received a notification and gotten excited, only to find a plea from my zombified former acquaintances to play your fudging game! Not cool.

28- God. Are you drunk or something? Why the hell do I have to be your entertainment?

29- Grandma. Yes, I know…you were raised in a different time, but why is it disrespectful when I choose to sleep instead of interacting with you? And why is it not disrespectful that you constantly criticise me in every way possible. And for the record, I love dessert. And I don’t give a damn about pimples.

30- Bullying. What is so funny about picking on people? Also, why is it tolerated? Look at freaking Amanda Todd. I don’t even like her; I find it stupid that she gets called “Beautiful and Inspirational”, when there’s millions of other kids who have done the same thing, and the only difference is that they hadn’t gone on YouTube. But her death wouldn’t have happened if people had left her alone, just like all those other kids who’s names won’t be remembered because they didn’t make a video.

31- Religious Extremists. Please, can you try to back up your beliefs with proof? If you’re going to try and convince other people that what you believe in is true, the least you can do is give them reasons other than “the bible said so”.

32- Atheist Extremists. Stop pissing off Religious Extremists. They’ll blow up the world if they think it’s right. It’s one thing to disagree with them, if you’re an atheist, you go ahead and be an atheist. But don’t go out of the way to tell them that their God is stupid, worthless or anything along those lines.

33- Steve Jobs, for making us dependant on Apple devices.

34- Tigger. You are not amusing, even in the slightest. And if my friends heard what you said about them, they’d beat you to a f@cking pulp. Also, you are not helpful in the slightest. It is not considered helpful to enable our mother’s depressive and semi psychotic rages.

35- My mother again. Stop talking behind my back. Seriously, you wonder why I don’t talk to my family members. Also, I just heard that derogatory remark about my seizures. Fuck you. That’s how pissed I am, I didn’t censor it.

36- Writers Block. Seriously, how am I meant to write when my brain refuses to get into that setting?

37- That part of my brain which makes me want to write at the worst times. Such as during mass.

38- Fanfiction. For making me question my sexual tastes. And for the record, yes, I’m still straight. Grandma.

39- That Bitchface who knocks my hand when I’m drawing. Hope you’re enjoying yourself, now you don’t have a head.

40- Dizzy Spells.

41- Inconvenient phone calls.

42- The Australian Government, for somehow failing to legalise gay marriage. How did they mess that up. Even America is getting there. America. Let that sink in Tony Abbott.

43- People who raise their children to blatantly hate people because of race, sexuality, religion, etc. Bigotism is not cool. I don’t think it’s even a word.

44- Modelling. Yes, I’d like to be skinny, but I’d also like to eat icecream.

45- People who shoot children at schools.

46- People who provoke people who end up shooting children at schools. How many times do I need to repeat this? Bullying is not okay!

47- Gangs. Look at me! I have an entourage, I’m powerful! Let’s bash up the elderly! Ha ha ha! Stuff you guys.

48- Society. You have sex? You’re a slut. You don’t have sex? You’re frigid. You cut? Stop seeking attention. You want to end it? Seriously, how much more attention do you need? Then after someone commits suicide, “Oh my god, what a beautiful person, god bless, society sucks”. The ultimate hypocrite. I could go on.

49- Tumblr. Whyyyy do you spoil my favourite tv shows? :'(

50- British Television, for only coming out in Britain. Because in the time between its release in Britain to its release in Australia, there’s an infinite amount of spoilers. It’s not just Tumblr, Facebook’s just as evil.

51- Shows glorifying teen pregnancy. Whiny, selfish girls are not good mothers. Just because you babysit does not mean mean you’ll be a good mother.

52- iPad’s inability to pirate. F@ck you Apple.

53- Books. Or at least the ones in the library at school. It’s the same story nowadays. An ordinary girl meets someone from the supernatural, who tells her she’s not ordinary. They eventually fall in love, and on the way, they battle evil supernatural beings who wish to take over the human race. Second scenario: a hero lives in a dystopian society, and they inadvertently become the symbol for the rebellion by doing…pretty much nothing apart from being plain ol’ them.

54- Authors who make Mary Sues in stories. And in case you don’t know what a Mary Sue is, it’s a character which is essentially a perfect person, and more often than not based on what the author wants to be like. Basically, the author places himself/herself in the story, not necessarily as the main character, but as someone who becomes more prominent/important than the main character, if they themselves aren’t the main character. This character has the best frigging luck in the history of the world, and has no flaws whatsoever. Also, this character won’t die, because they are the author’s special pet. And if they do die, their death is majestic and so beautiful it effects the story entirely. Oh, and before I forget, they usually have a traumatic backstory, causing them to be extremely secretive/mysterious, making them an object of obsession for the main protagonist. Stories are not there so authors can make fantasies involving themselves. Yes, I’m looking at you, Twilight. The worst case of this is Fifty Shades of Grey. Worst case of Mary Sue in history.

55- ‘Authors’ who refuse to kill off their characters because they love them too much. If you truly care for your creation, you need to make the story stay in their minds. And how you do this is you create characters they love and stay with them, which means when you kill them off, they are genuinely shattered. Yes, you have to be a monster. No, I don’t care that you love your favourite character, who is secretly a representation of what you’d want to look like. George RR Martin lives by this, he knows that people read his books because everyone talks about them.

56- Stores, as we’re moving away from the writing before I start a giant rant. I love my trench coat, you do not diss the trench coat!

57- Disney princesses, for creating unrealistic expectations of life in my four year old mind.

58- My friends, for informing me about the dirty side of Disney. Want some examples? Next list.

59- The nostalgia I get for school during summer holidays. Then when I get back, I realise that I don’t miss school anymore, and I want to go back to the world of laziness.

60- Twilight, for brainwashing half a generation of girls into falling in love with mercurial, beautiful men, often before the age of 13. Also for making every other teen fiction book sink to your level. Ughhhh.

61- Emilia Clarke, who inhabits the sexual fantasies of every nerdy male in the universe. And the occasional nerdy female.

62- Shipping. You have ruined books, television, movies, video games and story driven material for me. Not to mention YouTube.

63- People who ship themselves with band members/celebrities. C’mon guys, they don’t know you exist, it’s okay to have the occasional fantasy, but when you think about it, what’s the chance that they’re going to measure up to your expectations in person?

64- Fanfiction involving band members/celebrities and a fan/Mary Sue. *vomits*

65- Smut involving band members/celebrities and a fan/Mary Sue. More specifically, One Direction smut. This idea becomes even worse when you consider the fact that the majority of One Direction’s fan base are 12 year old girls.

66- One Direction, for corrupting the minds of today’s youth, and giving teenager girls unrealistic ideas of boys. Then again, I’m kind of terrified of them. They have an ARMY of impressionable 12 year old girls around the globe. How frigging scary is that?

67- Justin Bieber. For being a huge frigging Dickwad. I remember I got so much hate years ago for hating Justin, because he was a 16 year old kid who was a popular singer and was considered a beautiful person. But now, when you look at the stuff he’s done, peeing in mop buckets, speeding, and spitting on fans…seriously? Why is he still loved again?

68- Manga. Everyone is beautiful in anime. It’s not fair.

69 (Teehee)- Anime, because live adaptations don’t even begin to measure up to the animated series.

70- justgirlythings. They really must be running out of stuff to make if they’re posting stuff saying “Wearing a belt <3".

71- Youtubers, simply for being perfect.

72- The Boob Fairy, for skipping over me instead of Lady Delamore, who is already massive. (Love you DD ^_^).

73- My maths teacher, who paid no attention to whether or not I learnt anything in 2013.

74- People who get famous for stupid things. Just…no.

And for 75…

75- MILEY CYRUS. You have lowered the standards of young women. Just because other people are doing the same edgy stuff does not mean it's a good idea to f@ck up this generation further! Eagerly awaiting your nervous breakdown, by the way.

And that's it. This one was a b!tch.

Love Cat Madigan. Xox

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.

Mad Cat Artwork: Liquid Madness

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Time for another piece of what’s in my head in digital art form!

It’s not a self portrait, it’s based on a character in a story my friend The Evil One is writing. She used me as the inspiration for the character. So she’s going to be extremely messed up. ^_^

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The way I see it, she’s been driven so mad that she split into two personalities. The one I drew is the creepier, darker one, which has no sense of the present, and is permanently stuck inside her traumatic past. I might do another picture of both personalities, but I haven’t got enough time at the moment, with exams and everything. I barely have enough time to update sometimes.

Ah well. Enjoy my artwork, and I’m finishing up the second last chapter of Cat’s Run Away, which will hopefully be posted soon. I know how much you nonexistent readers love those.

Mad Cat

Atlys and Sylverlace

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SPOILER ALERT, FUTURE PLOTLINE AHEAD.

“No.”

“But the Weekly Challenge-”

“I know what it said.”

“It said, pick one of the characters that inhabit your brain.”

“That does not mean you specifically Daniel!”

“But-”

“Fuck off.”

“Fine…”

Here’s the Weekly Challenge, if any of you would care to have a shot at it: Weekly Writing Challenge: Characters That Haunt You

Yes, you can see why I laughed when I saw this challenge. How many characters do I have in my brain? Millions most likely. Lots and lots of people just waiting to get out. Daniel’s already left his cage.

However, I don’t want to talk Delirium or its Delusions today. I’d rather talk about a character in my story. Actually, I’ll talk about two characters.

The first is already an adult. I’m going to make her nearing her 30s. Her name is Mhyrandah Atlys, and she is on a quest to win her throne from her incompetent cousin. The Atlyses are an old family, centuries old, and they’re a very proud family, which is understandable, for they are the monarchs of the kingdom. But they are also a very wise family, they recorded the stories of old, events from the past, along with ideas about religion, science, even technology. The Atlyses are what brought civilisation back on track, after an event known as The Blast came about, killing about ninety percent of the population of the Earth. A lot of the knowledge of the Earth was destroyed, but the Atlyses managed to help humanity recover, with them as leaders.

As an Atlys, Mhyrandah knows many things about the history of humanity, including The Blast. She even has dreams of humanity in the past. She’s very weary about religion, seeing it as something which suffocates you and tries to control you, and her cousin Alexiyos uses religion and the belief that women cannot rule as his justification for claiming the throne. It’s her knowledge of the past that drives her, she knows that women can rule, and that she is a more worthy ruler than Alexiyos. She’s quite witty, and a quick thinker.

But despite her intelligence, Mhyrandah doesn’t understand people very well. She’s very used to having things her way, and compromising with people she’s not close to is difficult for her. She leaves negotiating to her companion, Isybelle, who is a skilled politician in her own right. She clashes with people easily without Isybelle to intercept. As well as being unable to compromise, Mhyrandah dislikes it when people make her look like a fool. She intensely hates criticism and she hates anyone who thinks wrong of her.

Which brings us to Character Two.

Mhyrandah marries in the story, and she has two stepchildren. Of a sorts. They’re illegitimate children, but she chooses to have one legitimised, just in case she doesn’t provide the kingdom with an heir.

That child is not the one I’m going to talk about.

It’s his sister.

Kassya Sylver, also known by her “bastard name”, Sylverlace, is the illegitimate daughter of Jharron Huntyr. She’s the opposite of Mhyrandah, she doesn’t mind religion, though that is probably because her religion and that of Mhyrandah’s people are completely different, and she is willing to negotiate with people. Unless, she doesn’t like them. And Mhyrandah’s stubbornness and self absorbed nature rubs Kassya the wrong way.

She understands people a lot better than Mhyrandah does, and when Mhyrandah becomes Queen, Kassya begins to study the politics of the court, and she begins to earn a name for herself. With help from her father, she is soon allowed to learn from the Atlys Files, paying particular attention to philosophy. Her new education and natural curiosity leads her to question the logic behind Mhyrandah’s policies, which of course, leads her to butt heads with Mhyrandah.

Kassya has flaws too though. She has a strong reckless streak, and though a lot of it is motivated by self preservation, she has moments where she acts out of carelessness and mischievous. It’s particularly noticeable at the beginning of the story, though it becomes more concealed later. This is what brings Mhyrandah to initially dislike her, though she puts up with her, until Kassya begins to disagree with Mhyrandah’s actions and she goes full blown evil-stepmother on her. She has her own type of stubbornness, like Mhyrandah, though the difference is that Mhyrandah is adamant about having her way, while Kassya has strict ideas about what is right or wrong.

I find that these two characters are very similar, despite their interactions with eachother. Mhyrandah and Kassya are both eager to learn, and are strong people, who refuse to back down from a challenge. They also want recognition for themselves, though in different ways; Mhyrandah wants to be Queen and Kassya wants to be legitimised, not so she can inherit the throne, but so she is acknowledged as her father’s daughter. They’re also strong speakers, though Mhyrandah can deal better with planned speeches and Kassya is able to hold herself in an argument.

The main differences, I think, between the two is that Kassya is far more resilient than Mhyrandah, and Mhyrandah has far more power than Kassya. Which leads to Kassya irritating Mhyrandah, Mhyrandah ‘punishing’ Kassya, Kassya criticising Mhyrandah and Mhyrandah getting angry and ‘punishing’ her again.

And the cycle continues.

The story is only folding out in my head at the moment, so this explanation is not as clear as I would like it to be. But here are two of the characters in my head, Mhyrandah Atlys and Kassya Sylver.

Suck on that, Daniel.

Obviously, there are far more characters than Mhyrandah and Kassya, but I’ll save those for another time. And no, the plot line where Mhyrandah takes the throne will not be the whole focus of the story. The main plot line is a whole lot darker…>:)

Anyway, time to go to school, just came back from therapy which was so desperately needed.

Love Mad Cat.

Watch Me Write!

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Hello non existent readers! Guess who’s iPad has regained access to the Internet?

MWAHAHAHA, nothing can stop me now! >:)

So I had made a promise to post the prologue of my story thingymajinky, so I’m going to that today. I’ve been making a lot of notes, because I’m making my own world, and I’m designing everything.

As if I didn’t already have enough worlds….

At the moment, I’ve just been sketching the places and people, and hopefully I’ll be able to post them on here soon. I’ve also had a lot of fun designing the clothes that they would wear, and since I’m doing Materials Design next year, I might be even able to make them.

Yeah right! :p But it would be a fun challenge.

Anyway, here’s the prologue, I’ll see you at the end.

How many stories had she heard as a girl, warning her of the dangers of the forest at night? How many tales of children being eaten and maidens getting murdered had she listened to? Far too many, she had to admit. She enjoyed frightening stories, because they were the ones that made the other girls scream.
As a branch scratched her arm with a sharp finger, she wondered if the inventors of those stories had been in the same woods as she. It was identical to the pictures painted in books; ink black night only illuminated by the moon, monstrous trees which would eat you if you fell asleep under them, and the menacing silence which threatened to drive you to madness.
It would appear that the silence had come too late then.
She stumbled, and the forest ground tore her knee again. Cuts and bruises are the least of my worries, she thought. I’ll endure a million. A billion, before I die by that hand.
The now familiar pains flooded her head again, and she couldn’t move another step. She crumpled to the forest ground, tears streaming down her face. End this, she pleaded the creatures that weren’t there. Please!
As the outlines of the trees became blurred, she felt a sense of dread wash over her as she realised her hunger was returning. A hunger for the drink of life. A hunger for scarlet.

She laced it tighter, trying to squeeze all the air out of herself, so the pain would leave.
Cloth of violet blue, embroidered with pearls which gleamed in the light. But as beautiful as the gown was, she could take no joy in it. That monster’s eyes were violet, the one that nearly killed her. And it was still out there. Waiting.
She tread toward the window, slowly, in case a nightmare jumped out in front of her. None came, but as she looked out onto the village, there they were. Monsters, everywhere.
Another would die today. That was what she had been told before rest the night before. Once, she had learnt about all the lives of the monsters, so some part of them remained in this world once they left it. She’d spent too many hours dwelling over the lives of a young mother, a knight of her own guard, even a lady of the court had turned.
It didn’t matter now though, who these people were, how they lived their short, miserable lives. Their faces all blended together, they were all twisted and mutated and monstrous. It didn’t matter who they were, because when they were lead out to die, the only face she was capable of seeing was his.
The roar of pain from the father…the hysterical sobbing from the sister… The death had brought chaos and destruction to the land. But the fire would burn it all away.
With that, she tore off the evil gown, with the horrible violet eyes, and threw it upon the roaring fire. It caught alight quickly, and blue became black, and the bright flames feasted on the dress before her eyes.
What did he think, she thought, when the stake was driven into his chest? Did he live long enough to feel the flames burning at him? That was her greatest torment. She swore, she would watch a million monsters die to know what was running through his mind.

A bottle of wyne lay beside him, rolling across the cabin floor. It tasted more of piss than wyne, if he were honest, but he’d take it.
His head knocked against the wall again. Excellent, he thought. He could use a couple of hours in a drunken slumber. Thinking was bad. Thinking lead to horrible things, he’d seen that much.
He’d lost everything. He’d lost his children, his wife, and his pride had deserted him the minute he ended up on this boat to the middle of nowhere.
His head blurred, and he felt the warm, comfortable sense of unconsciousness drown him.
A minute after sleep found him, he was shaken awake. “Fuck off,” he growled.
“The lords want t’see yer,” a voice stinking of ash told him. “Good news, they said.”
Fuck… He stumbled up, and staggered out the door. What had happened the last time he heard the words ‘good news”? He chuckled to himself without humour. He’d see what they wanted now. The quicker it was over with, the faster he could get back to his drunken stupor.
“Morning to you too,” they remarked when they saw him. Their matching blue eyes weren’t angry or mocking, though they should be. They were pitying. For some reason, that was felt even worse.
One of them grabbed his legs, and lifted them over his shoulders. He swore loudly, and hit at the other, as they lifted up the other half of his body. “It is time,” the lord said, ignoring his shouts and curses, “for you to either sink or swim.”
With one swing, he was thrown into the air, and he fell down towards the water.

He should’ve been used to corpses by now, but, like the idiot he was, he still felt a chill go down his spine when he saw them.
Why did he put his life in the hands of this stranger, who, quite frankly, was far more worrying than the prison. It wasn’t just the fact that the majority of the guards were dead, most likely by this one’s hand. He was quite certain that this…this…
“Excuse me, but are you a man or a woman?” he asked the stranger.
A low chuckle came from them. He couldn’t hear any note that distinguished them as either sex. Maybe they didn’t have one, perhaps he should refer to them as it.
It would be suicide to leave through the front gates of the prison, so the stranger lead the way to the sewers. Upon reaching the drainage, they raised a gloved hand, indicating for him to go down first. Warily, he obliged, and slid down the pipe.
He was surprised to see a torch in these sewers. Who could’ve left that here? There was still a little flame coming from it, giving him enough light to see around him. There was even more blood in the sewers than in the actual prison, he noted. The filthy water he was standing in reached his knees, there was a red tinge to it. He hated to think how many other corpses were there.
With another splash, he heard the stranger join him. He turned around. Had no one left that torch, he would be blind, but now he could see it’s true form.
“Should’ve guessed,” he said aloud.
The stranger grinned in the dark, and raised a finger to their lips. “Shhhh.”
Was it threat or warning? He didn’t know. He was an idiot, and idiots knew nothing. Except to follow. He had enough sense to know that he could either die here, in bloody waters, or follow this stranger, who had killed those guarding him, and may well kill him too,
Sheep to shepherd, he followed the shadow into the darkness.

Please let me know how this is in the comments, I’m trying to write more creatively, and if it’s good, I’ll probably post more of it. But in this stage it’s a work in progress.

Mad Cat xox