Feeling: disgusted
Listening to: Bush - The Disease of the Dancing Cat
Reading/Watching: Dragons... almost done

Driving home, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Had to slap myself awake (literally) several times.

What is it about warm sunshine and a full stomach? I even had Tori jangling in my ears, a bit too loud so as to keep me awake, and still my attention wandered. And I thought I'd been getting enough sleep.

Someone has kidnapped my little brother and replaced him with this adult person. It's freaky. He drives, he dates (Puppy's first girlfriend! eee!!), he leaps buildings in a single bound. I keep looking around the house for the stringbean with the huge brown cow-eyes that would charge into my room and make me read Babysitter's Club to him.

Instead, he came into my room, sat on my bed, started talking to me about school, rock concerts, litmag. Apparently one of the editing staff members of the highschool literary magazine (of which three kids in my family have been editors) tried to pawn off four previously-published works as his own, with minor alterations. Problem was, the kid was stupid enough to copy a piece that had been published the previous year, and the original author saw it.

Derrr, stupid. So they went over the guy's eight submissions and found that four of them were rip-offs. This time it was better, since they caught it before it went to print, and it wasn't anything famous (last time, Puppy was reading my copy of the magazine and recognized something from his eighth-grade literature book), but it's pretty disheartening. Especially since the thief was a senior and Puppy had to face him down and accuse him of plagiarism because no one else had the courage. This is a highly-reputed (nationally recognized) student publication that's been around for over a decade. It's sickening that incidents like this might bring down the entire tradition.

Let me just say, no other theft disgusts me more than plagiarism. Things, like jewels, cars, clothes... they can be replaced. And they're usually not originals. But to steal someone's thoughts, someone's creativity, the something that makes them different, the only thing one can hold as entirely one's own... it's a crime on so many levels.

And if I ever find someone trying to "borrow" anything I've written here, I swear to you now: I will find you. I will find you, and I will sic 6'5" of my football-lineman little brother on you.

I'm sure after two rounds of this crap, he'd love a chance to "express his feelings." As would I.

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