Mind Your Own Business, Boy, How Was I To Know, That He Was Just A Fiend And A No-Good Cheat, Well It's All In The Past Bitch Cuz Now I've Got It Beat
--"Dirty Glass", Dropkick Murphys
"It's alright, Heidi. What's a little plagarism among friends?" I told her as I handed over my years-old Hamlet essay.
Of everything I ever wrote in high school, nothing has followed me as much as this one Hamlet essay on the topic of whether or not the ghost of Hamlet's father is a friend or foe to him. It has remained a favorite topic of discussion of mine for two anecdotes.
One, it was the only essay that any teacher or professor of mine ever graded 100% within less than ten minutes after reading it. I basically saw my English teacher in the cafeteria before school had started. She'd been a favorite instructor of mine and I was, by far, one of the best, if not the best, student in her class so she was anticipating what I had written on this most sacred of texts. I turned it into her right there, four periods before her class, thinking that she would peruse it and officially grade once she read it in class. When she placed two marks for spelling errors and handed it back to me with the notation 35/35, signifying a perfect score, I was shocked. Not only did it seem she read it rather quickly--if it took her more than seven minutes to get through it all, it would have been a miracle--but to give me a perfect score without hesitation was quite a nice surprise. She told me to still hand it in, but, yeah, she definitely liked what she had read. I thanked her and to this day recall it as the only paper I've been both proud of getting a perfect score with the full knowledge that it probably did deserve a perfect score.
Two, it remains the only paper I've actually marketed as capable of earning one a perfect score. Before Heidi, I "sold" it to one of my other friends for a couple of good dinners. Those two instances, also, I have no qualms about repeating as quirky examples of my whimsical nature.
"But aren't you bothered that you're basically helping me to cheat?" she asked me as she readily accepted my paper.
"Not really. I offered, you didn't ask for it. I just chalk it up to the troublemaker in me," I smiled.
Granted, the real reason I was doing it was because I had an undeniable workplace crush on Heidi, but the reason that's more insightful is that I love to cause just the tiniest bit of chaos whenever possible. It's the whole reason I like to read about pulling scams and learn how to pull them myself. I love chaos as long as it doesn't really hurt anyone. I love messing with people whether it be with a well-placed non sequitor or a little white lie that masquerades as a practical joke. It must have something to do with the whole concept of setting myself apart from the norm. I cannot do anything straight-forward. Like my cousin says, there always have to be some kind of "twist" involved when I'm relaying anything. More often than not this twist involves doing something rather unconventional and sometimes rather underhanded since, by its very nature, doing something out of the norm is breaking one rule or another.
When Heidi told me about the problems she had been having in getting started with her Hamlet essay I was more than willing to jump in. It was nice to have the perception that I was somehow coming to her rescue and the little rascal in me couldn't resist pulling one over on somebody, even if it was only some a teacher I would probably never come into contact with.
"And you're sure this will get me a perfect score?"
"Well, I cannot guarantee you perfection, but I'm confident it'll get you an A at least."
"Thanks, Patrick, you're saving my life."
"No prob, Heidi."
Sometimes I worry that this streak is bigger than me, that deep-down I really have a need to be deceitful or chaotic. I've discussed this many times with my fellow wicked child, Breanne, and the discussions never turn out well. Sure, there have been these few instances where I assisted in people getting better grades than they deserved, but I always justified it with the rationale that these people weren't taking up English as a major anyway so any achievements in that field wouldn't be too long-lasting. It'd be a different story if one of the two individuals ended up becoming an English Lit Professor or Novelist. In that case I would feel any advancement in their profession would have been earned falsely and I would have stood strong in not giving out my papers. It's this same rationale that allows me a clear conscience every time I had a friend do one of my art projects or accept assistance in the form of people doing school projects for me. It's not like I was ever going to go into a field where dexterity with my hands would be a factor so I don't feel wrong for taking advantage of the kindness of not-so-strangers.
Yet it didn't just stop there. I have short-cutted in other areas of my life that weren't as clear-cut in terms of morality. I've cheated on a girlfriend, thank God. But I've cheated in just about every other aspect of my life. I got confirmed by saying what people wanted to hear when I knew the last thing I wanted was to remain in any religion. I allowed people to help me with the full knowledge that they would be the last people I'd ever help out of a similar jam. I've probably convinced dozens of people to willingly give me money on the assumption I was in a position of authority or had the ability to give them ridiculous great rates of return on their investments. Worst of all, I've said and done horrible things to people I considered friends all to put myself in a position of getting what I want. Any of those ideas, those actions, or thoughts, have caused me more than one sleepless night.
"But you don't plan on continuing with this do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can't keep cheating. Before long it's going to eat away at you? I mean--I'm glad for the help, but I sure wouldn't feel good about myself if I kept doing it, Patrick."
"I guess you're going to have to ask me in a few years how I feel and if I'm still up to my old tricks, Heidi."
I've never claimed to be a saint, but after a particular nasty run-in with someone who was none too pleased with me basically conning him out of fifty dollars, I've all but given up trying out new scams on people. And I'd like to think I no longer have it in me to wantonly lie to my friends or family. For sure, I no longer am in the habit of resorting to physical altercations when I lose my temper like I did with DeAnn. I think I'm a better person than I was before. I've learned one or two concepts due to reading about Rachel and seeing how my previous mindset affected people that have led me to believe there's a better way than always looking for the angles.
Yet I'm still really proud when somebody bites hard on an obvious story I've been spinning. It still puts a smile on my face when I can pull away the curtain and reveal just how much I've fooled them. That mischievous prankster will never go away.
And, yes, I'm still in the habit of allowing my expertise with writing to assist people I know. I can't help it. When somebody I like needs help in an area I consider myself proficient in, I still jump at the chance. When it comes to helping my friends, sometimes there still isn't a line between what I think is right and fair, and what is being a good friend.
"I think that's what being a good friend is all about, helping someone out when they need it."
"Even when it means being less than honest?"
"Especially when it means being less than honest. Anybody can be helpful when it's the right thing to do. It's when it's the wrong thing to do and you still help anyway that you know who's willing to go to bat for you."
"Well, whatever your reasons, you sure saved my butt."
"Hey, I did it as much for me as I did for me. It's just fun for me."
And it always will be.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
"It's alright, Heidi. What's a little plagarism among friends?" I told her as I handed over my years-old Hamlet essay.Of everything I ever wrote in high school, nothing has followed me as much as this one Hamlet essay on the topic of whether or not the ghost of Hamlet's father is a friend or foe to him. It has remained a favorite topic of discussion of mine for two anecdotes.
One, it was the only essay that any teacher or professor of mine ever graded 100% within less than ten minutes after reading it. I basically saw my English teacher in the cafeteria before school had started. She'd been a favorite instructor of mine and I was, by far, one of the best, if not the best, student in her class so she was anticipating what I had written on this most sacred of texts. I turned it into her right there, four periods before her class, thinking that she would peruse it and officially grade once she read it in class. When she placed two marks for spelling errors and handed it back to me with the notation 35/35, signifying a perfect score, I was shocked. Not only did it seem she read it rather quickly--if it took her more than seven minutes to get through it all, it would have been a miracle--but to give me a perfect score without hesitation was quite a nice surprise. She told me to still hand it in, but, yeah, she definitely liked what she had read. I thanked her and to this day recall it as the only paper I've been both proud of getting a perfect score with the full knowledge that it probably did deserve a perfect score.
Two, it remains the only paper I've actually marketed as capable of earning one a perfect score. Before Heidi, I "sold" it to one of my other friends for a couple of good dinners. Those two instances, also, I have no qualms about repeating as quirky examples of my whimsical nature.
"But aren't you bothered that you're basically helping me to cheat?" she asked me as she readily accepted my paper.
"Not really. I offered, you didn't ask for it. I just chalk it up to the troublemaker in me," I smiled.
Granted, the real reason I was doing it was because I had an undeniable workplace crush on Heidi, but the reason that's more insightful is that I love to cause just the tiniest bit of chaos whenever possible. It's the whole reason I like to read about pulling scams and learn how to pull them myself. I love chaos as long as it doesn't really hurt anyone. I love messing with people whether it be with a well-placed non sequitor or a little white lie that masquerades as a practical joke. It must have something to do with the whole concept of setting myself apart from the norm. I cannot do anything straight-forward. Like my cousin says, there always have to be some kind of "twist" involved when I'm relaying anything. More often than not this twist involves doing something rather unconventional and sometimes rather underhanded since, by its very nature, doing something out of the norm is breaking one rule or another.
When Heidi told me about the problems she had been having in getting started with her Hamlet essay I was more than willing to jump in. It was nice to have the perception that I was somehow coming to her rescue and the little rascal in me couldn't resist pulling one over on somebody, even if it was only some a teacher I would probably never come into contact with.
"And you're sure this will get me a perfect score?"
"Well, I cannot guarantee you perfection, but I'm confident it'll get you an A at least."
"Thanks, Patrick, you're saving my life."
"No prob, Heidi."
Sometimes I worry that this streak is bigger than me, that deep-down I really have a need to be deceitful or chaotic. I've discussed this many times with my fellow wicked child, Breanne, and the discussions never turn out well. Sure, there have been these few instances where I assisted in people getting better grades than they deserved, but I always justified it with the rationale that these people weren't taking up English as a major anyway so any achievements in that field wouldn't be too long-lasting. It'd be a different story if one of the two individuals ended up becoming an English Lit Professor or Novelist. In that case I would feel any advancement in their profession would have been earned falsely and I would have stood strong in not giving out my papers. It's this same rationale that allows me a clear conscience every time I had a friend do one of my art projects or accept assistance in the form of people doing school projects for me. It's not like I was ever going to go into a field where dexterity with my hands would be a factor so I don't feel wrong for taking advantage of the kindness of not-so-strangers.
Yet it didn't just stop there. I have short-cutted in other areas of my life that weren't as clear-cut in terms of morality. I've cheated on a girlfriend, thank God. But I've cheated in just about every other aspect of my life. I got confirmed by saying what people wanted to hear when I knew the last thing I wanted was to remain in any religion. I allowed people to help me with the full knowledge that they would be the last people I'd ever help out of a similar jam. I've probably convinced dozens of people to willingly give me money on the assumption I was in a position of authority or had the ability to give them ridiculous great rates of return on their investments. Worst of all, I've said and done horrible things to people I considered friends all to put myself in a position of getting what I want. Any of those ideas, those actions, or thoughts, have caused me more than one sleepless night.
"But you don't plan on continuing with this do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can't keep cheating. Before long it's going to eat away at you? I mean--I'm glad for the help, but I sure wouldn't feel good about myself if I kept doing it, Patrick."
"I guess you're going to have to ask me in a few years how I feel and if I'm still up to my old tricks, Heidi."
I've never claimed to be a saint, but after a particular nasty run-in with someone who was none too pleased with me basically conning him out of fifty dollars, I've all but given up trying out new scams on people. And I'd like to think I no longer have it in me to wantonly lie to my friends or family. For sure, I no longer am in the habit of resorting to physical altercations when I lose my temper like I did with DeAnn. I think I'm a better person than I was before. I've learned one or two concepts due to reading about Rachel and seeing how my previous mindset affected people that have led me to believe there's a better way than always looking for the angles.
Yet I'm still really proud when somebody bites hard on an obvious story I've been spinning. It still puts a smile on my face when I can pull away the curtain and reveal just how much I've fooled them. That mischievous prankster will never go away.
And, yes, I'm still in the habit of allowing my expertise with writing to assist people I know. I can't help it. When somebody I like needs help in an area I consider myself proficient in, I still jump at the chance. When it comes to helping my friends, sometimes there still isn't a line between what I think is right and fair, and what is being a good friend.
"I think that's what being a good friend is all about, helping someone out when they need it."
"Even when it means being less than honest?"
"Especially when it means being less than honest. Anybody can be helpful when it's the right thing to do. It's when it's the wrong thing to do and you still help anyway that you know who's willing to go to bat for you."
"Well, whatever your reasons, you sure saved my butt."
"Hey, I did it as much for me as I did for me. It's just fun for me."
And it always will be.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
posted by mojo shivers @ 12:35 AM
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