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Catherine D'Aubigne
24 June 2006 @ 12:49 am
Testing testing
Catherine D'Aubigne
13 May 2006 @ 03:19 am
testing testing testing, i made you out of clay...
Tags: ,
Catherine D'Aubigne
26 April 2006 @ 06:31 pm
This is a test, this is only a test.
Catherine D'Aubigne
09 November 2004 @ 11:14 am
Everything is going according to plan. Master Griffith is unwittingly making the murder weapon, and I in my brilliance will have Eleanore right where I want her. After dinner I will bring her out into the shed... to take a look at my newest portrait perhaps. And then... well, she will become my newest still life. It is foolproof!

And then Mother will be all mine....
Catherine D'Aubigne
08 November 2004 @ 10:22 am
Mother just took Eleanore into her room and closed the door. They think that I'm a fool. They think I can't see what's going on. Mother and Eleanore are plotting to rid themselves of me! They are planning to send me away to a convent where they will never have to deal with me again and they can go about their lives as the daughter that Mother always wanted!

I thought that I was the daughter Mother always wanted!

It is obvious to me that Mother has been placed under a spell by that wretch Eleanore. For Mother would never want to get rid of me without some magical push from the evil side. And since it is Eleanore she has turned to, it must be Eleanore doing the crafting. I have thought about trying to find a magical solution to the problem, but can I know for sure if the Sea Witch they talk about in town is not on their side? Or the evil Maleficent, whom I've heard discussions of in the marketplace? No, no... I can't be sure who is on my side and who is on Eleanore's side to take away my mother.

I've heard stories that if you kill the source of the magic then it will surely break the spell that the evil-doer has cast. So all I must do is kill Eleanore and Mother will return to normal. It is a shame to have to spill her blood, but I must protect Mother from her evil ways. Although, if I use a blunt stick, maybe there wouldn't be any blood. I mean, once I kill and bury Eleanore, who will do the cleaning?

It is a shame Abigail will have to become the maid, but it is a risk I am willing to take.

Tonight... yes, tonight I shall free Mother from the shakles of Eleanore's evil spell. Tonight we all shall be free! I must go find my weapon...
Catherine D'Aubigne
05 November 2004 @ 09:48 am
Forgive me for not writing as much as I should, dearest journal. But my anger and my rage have prevented me from forming a coherent thought, let alone string them into words! Mother is doting ever more upon Eleanore, and Eleanore is laping it up like spoiled mutt. Why must Mother make things so complicated? Doesn't she know that I am the only one worthy of her affections? The only one with a sensitive enough soul to fully comprehend her pain and her eternal suffering? I AM THE DAUGHTER MOST DESERVING!

But no, she gives this praise to Eleanore and leaves me to putter alone in the damnable shed that has become my only refuge. The hours upon hours I spend in their, painting the images of my mind is my only release. For Mother gives me no love... she reserves herself only for Eleanore.

There is only one answer to this. I must make Eleanore as still life is - cold, uncaring... and completely under my control.

I'm terribly afraid that I must kill Eleanore.
Catherine D'Aubigne
05 August 2004 @ 09:22 am
I tried painting Mother today. She wouldn't sit with me - I think she was inside talking to Eleanore and Abigail. It's not fair. She always seems to be spending time with those two and never with me. I didn't think that it was that far off of a request... Every proper home needs a proper portrait of the head of the household! And unless Mother has relenquished that title, then she needs to sit for her portrait!

I'm afraid that my paintbrushes are wearing a bit thin. But I don't want to have to replace them - I've never felt so inspired to paint a portrait as I am when I hold them! It's like... it's like they have a magic inside of them that I've never experienced before as an artist!

I have to get Mother to sit with me. I have to get her to spend time with me. I have to get her to pay attention to me...
Feeling: predatory
Catherine D'Aubigne
21 July 2004 @ 05:29 pm
I tried to paint today. I tried and I tried... but I just couldn't. I really wanted to paint this lovely lark that had positioned itself onto the windowsill of the shed. It was singing its lovely song, so I picked up my brushes and for all that I am worth, I could not form the image of a lark in my mind's eye. All I could think of was Mother. Not that I mind thinking of Mother, I do love her terribly. In fact, I should probably paint a portrait of her. I regret never being able to paint one of Father while he was still alive, but dear Mother is still here and I shouldn't tarry to immortalize her in my paints! A truely splendid idea. I wonder why I started thinking about that... I haven't attempted a portrait in years.

And where are those cookies that Eleanore promised?
Feeling: confusedconfused
Catherine D'Aubigne
10 June 2004 @ 12:02 pm
Oh, the art show went just swimmingly! There were people there... appreciating my art! What a wonderful feeling it is to be appreciated in such a way. In fact, I even sold a couple of pieces. The lovely glassmaker, Mr. Griffith bought a piece of a castle that I had painted on a trip that I took a year ago. I was never quite fond of the shading on that one - that was before I bought my fan brush. Which I must say, eveyone needs a fan brush to do proper shading! But he just stood there looking at it for a while before asking to purchase it.

Such a wonderful feeling! And of course, that darling Le Chat! Such a wonderful creature to put together such a magnificint event!

But now I must wrap up the piece to deliver to Mr. Griffith. Such are the burdens of being an artist...
Catherine D'Aubigne
26 April 2004 @ 12:28 am
I take back anything unsavory I might have said about my sister Eleanore. Abigail and I finally found out what she'd been working on for the past few weeks, and it was the shed! She had cleaned it out to make a studio for me and a greenhouse for Abigail. And to think I jumped to such horrible conclusions before. I really should know better than that. Eleanore isn't cruel... vindictive a bit, but not cruel. I knew she had a good reason for cleaning out the place, I really did. Even if I didn't show it.

But now that I have this wonderful space to occupy, I must work at filling it up with art. I can't decide whether I want to paint the walls to give it an artistic flair or whether I want to leave it white and let it be like a mirror to bounce ideas and inspirations off of. Oh, decisions decisions...
Feeling: excitedexcited
Catherine D'Aubigne
17 March 2004 @ 10:13 am
Eleanore is one of the most horrible and infuriating people in the world! She'll use any of Father's money to buy cleaning supplies - and mind you not the standard mop and broom. Oh no, it's her obsession. Clean clean clean clean clean. God forbid there is a speck of something on a goblet or a paper out of place. If that happens she'll royally freak out! But she'll indulge her wretched cleaning obsession and the neglect of any of the joys and desires of Mother, Abigail or I. We just don't matter since she holds the purse strings. And why Father gave her that, God only knows. Stupid cleaning fetish. Somedays I just want to dump a bottle of wine on the carpeting just to watch her on her hands and knees scrubbing for hours and praying that the horrible stain will come out. It would serve her right.

And she's the one who facilitated the theft of my oils! She claims she didn't know what was out there - but if she didn't know for sure what was out there, why did she let it be cleaned out. Some odd vendetta, the little bitch.

I'm going downstairs for a glass of wine. Or a bottle.
Feeling: pissed offpissed off
Catherine D'Aubigne
16 March 2004 @ 04:23 pm
Oh my God! Something horrible has happened! My paints... they're all gone! I left my oils in the shed behind our house - my room just wasn't large enough to hold the oils AND pastels, you know. And no one ever used that shed. It was the one place that Eleanore wouldn't try to wipe up, and now they're all gone! The windows were cracked and they were all... gone.

I swear, when I find out who did this...
Feeling: pissed offpissed off
Catherine D'Aubigne
15 March 2004 @ 06:45 pm
I wonder if Eleanore got my note about the Monkey. I left it taped to her broom, so obviously she would see it. She spends more time with that broom than she does with her family. It's enough to make anyone think that she doesn't care. I really hope the shop has another one of the Monkeys... I forgot to send Eleanore out last week to get them when they first came out. And really, what Jungle Happy collection is complete without a dancing monkey? Not one that I know of.

I wonder what Abigail is doing. I'm so terribly bored.
Feeling: boredbored
Catherine D'Aubigne
14 March 2004 @ 11:48 pm
The life of an artist is truely tortured. People just don't understand my art. My mother is my biggest supporter - and she has truely wonderful taste! Just look at all of the tapestries throughout my house! Oh, they are just gorgeous! And Mother always encourages me to explore my art. Abigail doesn't seem to mind it much. But then, she doesn't seem to mind anything that isn't her hair or her nails. But we do find common ground on these lovely glass figurines that are made locally in a shop down in the market area. They reflect light like water! Oh, it's beautiful.

Now Eleanore, she just doesn't get it. I truely think she has a soul made of stone somedays. Just because my art area is not as meticulous as SHE would prefer for it to be, she calls me a slob! The nerve. She just doesn't understand the soul of an artist.
Feeling: mellowmellow