Goodbye, first sem! Hello, sem break!

This week I submitted one nonfiction anthology, one take home exam, one project/analysis on an American novel in the 19th century, one short story revision, and one final critical paper of a few (no, several) thousand words.

Today, I submitted the last one. And friends, I AM FREEEEEE! Goodbye first semester, you and your sucky schedule, demanding professors, incredibly heavy workload and all the unsurmountable stress you have caused me! I survived you -- no wait, I PWND YOU! Hahaha! This has been my most challenging semester, by far, and I'm very proud to say that I got myself out alive! And in one piece! Now the only thing left to do is wait for your judgment (aka Grades) but other than that, you are history! I am just so happy and relieved that I can finally bid you arrivederci! I can't wait to revel in the freedom! Woooh! What to do first, to sleep or to eat or to spend 24/7 on the Internet? Ahhhh.. the choices, the choices.. I missed being lazy and bored!

(Off-topic: It's almost my birthday and I don't even feel it!)

And now I shall go back and hone my bumming-around skills.

Keyboards.

The black and white ivory keys produce sound; the little square ones craft words. With each press, a creation. With each movement, a dynamic. How my hands move about from one side to the next, finding their ways into each other; in a mad jumble, weaving together something whole. The rising action, the crescendo, how it climaxes, then it descends, softens down, hush, hush, rest. Maybe it's not about being one or the other, it's being both. Starting, waiting, moving, stopping, they all come together in the end.

It all comes together in the end.

On battles.

First of all, like what I said in my FB account, I never meant to sensationalize this whole plagiarism thing. But then again, it is a big deal, regardless of what medium the stealing has transpired in: be it a blog, a magazine, a book, etc -- it's always just wrong. While others may find comfort in knowing that it is on some level flattering and dismiss it as just "wala lang", doing that would only make you feel better, but what about the one who did it? They get away with it. The least we can do is let them know what they're doing is wrong. It doesn't mean you're being high and mighty or that you're calling attention to yourself, it just means you're doing something to protect yourself, and to put them in their place.

I fight my battles when I have to, that doesn't make me arrogant. I'd rather stand up for myself than be a doormat.

That being said, academic battles have waged war against me this week. I have five major papers still ahead of me for the remainder of the semester, and I seriously don't know where and how to begin. I've been spending the last few days holed up in the library, either searching for books or trying to write a paper, and while I appreciate the silence and the comfort brought by air-conditioning, the thought that there are still so many things to do is stressing me out even more. I am getting used to all this, it's just the sheer volume of work that needs to be done in such a short amount of time is overwhelming me. I've been asking The Boy-nospace-friend, being the master of calm and cool that he is, to give me tips on handling this, but I guess I really can't help it that I've inherited my mom's worry-wart gene. I know I can finish them eventually, but I just have to worry and freak out first before getting anything done, and well, it's not healthy.

Another thing that's not healthy: me not getting enough sleep! I absolutely hate it that my body is wired a certain way -- it cannot work unless it's late and all the shows on free TV are showing the color bars with the haunting monotonous tone. I've tried tricking myself into sleeping until midnight and then begin working from there, but it doesn't work. I have to reach a state of extreme exhaustion before the adrenaline kicks in and gets all the words flowing. I am doomed. My creative juices are insisting on graveyard shift, and I can do nothing but give in. (I did sleep this afternoon though, and it feels wonderful!)

They say if you can't beat them, join them. Stress and Insomnia, while you're both not companions I'm looking forward to having, if it means having to get my papers done, then, let's be friends. Friends with (academic) benefits.

The aftermath.

It's an unpleasant surprise to suddenly see someone blatantly rip off something you've written based on a genuine emotion or situation. I guess some people will never see it the way I do, and will never understand why it was such a big deal, but I am glad that there are people who do understand where I'm coming from. It is only after all a blog, and you can argue that in the Internet, there are no clear lines to be drawn as to what is bizarre and simply just wrong.

But this blog, more than anything else I own or have, has been a constant, tangible presence in my life that having anyone else take something from it just really crossed the line. At 18, this is probably one of the few things I can truly be proud of, because it's something I've created, put together, and invested an immeasurable amount of time in (hello, 6 years) and so having someone just take my words away from me definitely hit me hard.

This may only be a blog, but it's a collection of so many of my thoughts, ideas, feelings -- it's got so much more of me than anything else I have. This blog isn't just about me entertaining an audience, it's about me finding an outlet for myself. It's personal. And so, I don't believe I'm overreacting on this. It went too far.

I posted an entry here and in my Facebook, I told my friends, and I sent her private messages to let her know what I feel. I didn't fight with her and passed up the opportunity to blatantly point out all her embarrassing grammatical errors in her other non-stolen posts (even if my friends were tempting me to do so, haha!) because I don't believe in stooping down to her shamelessness. Thankfully, she did delete her posts in Tumblr (I eventually found out she had Tumblr and a number of her entries were mine as well) and also her Multiply site. Hopefully, she's realized her mistake.

(Of course, I am forever grateful for my friends, both offline and online, who were there to back me up yesterday, and even today. You all know who you are, and I love you, guys.)

Plagiarism is just plain wrong, that's something we should all know and understand. It's no easy feat creating something out of nothing -- be it a novel, a song, a movie, a painting, a piece of literature. It entails putting a part of you into something and that takes hard work and effort. Being appreciated is certainly something to be grateful for. But more importantly, it's being given credit that also counts.

That being said, Niqui, I will give you credit for making me feel like my thoughts matter not only to myself but to strangers as well. Thank you for making me want to blog more, because if anything, that only means my words can mean as much to others as they do for me. But your being unoriginal? No, thanks. The blogosphere Internet world does not need sad, pathetic copycats like you.

I hope you learned your lesson.

(1) Plagiarism is never cool, and more importantly..

(2) You don't mess with the Bombastarr.

Ripped off.

I cannot believe it. For the first time in such a long time, I decided to check out my Multiply for old times' sake, when I came across this particular blog in the viewing history.

Much to my surprise, most of her entries were taken from my blogs. Her intro/welcome page is very similar to mine. You can compare that to my Multiply homepage and even to my profile page here. Then, one of her headings was also taken from Brighter Than Sunshine, much like the one in my Multiply. And to my biggest surprise (and horror), two of her blog entries were completely, one-hundred percent mine: Ignite and I'm Okay. Compare that with hers.

You can go check it out yourself. She isn't my contact and I was able to view her profile, so I'm sure you can too. I sent her a message on her guestbook and a private one to let her know, but I don't know if she even updates that thing still. But from the looks of it, the last time she checked my Multiply was just last Thursday.

It's just -- unbelievable. I write what I write because they are what I feel during that moment, and all of them are real emotions that only really come out of me as I type them down. It surprises me how it's so easy for some people to just copy/paste something very personal to me and pass them off as their own. Why would they even do that? I appreciate that there are people out there who have told me (offline or online) that they find some of my entries believable, relatable, and enjoyable even, and for that I am very grateful. But I don't feel flattered at all when they use it as it is and claim it as theirs. I feel cheated, honestly.

I know this kind of thing comes along with being a writer -- there will be people who will rip off your words and claim them. But really, people? I'm not anybody, I don't see the point of taking some unknown 18-year-old girl's blog entries. Then again, maybe that's what they think. Because I'm just some random girl, they feel no shame taking what isn't theirs.

Please tell me I'm not exaggerating and that I saw what I saw.

I don't know what to do with this girl, if she ever responds. But I hope whoever gets to read this entry (and compares our blogs) do realize how wrong this is. And I hope she does too. I may not have the power to go as far as taking this to court, but if this is how she believes being creative and original is, I feel sorry for her.

This is a story about a girl named..

I know I may be young, but I’ve got feelings too. And I need to do what I feel like doing. So let me go and just listen.

All you people look at me like I’m a little girl. Well did you ever think it'd be okay for me to step into this world? Always saying little girl don’t step into the club. Well I’m just tryin’ to find out why cause dancing’s what I love.

Say hello to the girl that I am. You're gonna have to see through my perspective. I need to make mistakes just to learn who I am. And I don't wanna be so damn protected. There must be another way. 'Cause I believe in taking chances. But who am I to say what a girl is to do?God, I need some answers. What am I to do with my life? How am I supposed to know what's right? I can't help the way I feel. But my life has been so overprotected.

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me. Why don't they just let me live? I don't need permission, make my own decisions. That's my prerogative. It's the way that I wanna live. It's my prerogative. You can’t tell me what to do.

This, my friends, is what you call Britney Spears wisdom.

Oh hello, October.

I tell everyone

I smile just because

I've got a city love

I found it in Lydia

And I can't remember life before her name

- City Love by John Mayer

October begins with rain. The sky is crying with me as my heart breaks over missing John Mayer's concert tonight at the MOA Concert Grounds. I am filling my room with his music, letting his words numb the pain of me not seeing him tonight. I almost had tickets, but things didn't turn out the way they did and now here I am, half-wishing I was there all muddy and stinky, singing along with him. (The other half of me though refuses to get wet and thanks the heavens for this "blessing.") Seriously. I really, really wanted to watch him perform live.

But then again, tonight I am comforted by the fact that for John Mayer's absence is the presence of that complicated, fleeting emotion which he sings about. Me lying in my bed right now instead of standing under the rain waiting for him doesn't make his songs ring any less true for me. His music will always be there anyway, playing in the background in the iPod inside my head, as we drive off for mojos and sip through iced teas.