This is why I don't write press releases

2009 Polaris Scrambler 500 4x4 released
Polaris motorsports has just announced to the world it’s newest member of the scrambler family. The 2009 Scrambler 500 4x4 starts out for the low price of $7,999. One of the main selling features is the automatic Transmission with forward, neutral and reverse, it’s so easy a caveman could do it.
Other exhilarating features are a 500 High-Output(H.O.) 4-Valve, 4-stroke liquid-cooled engine, on demand True AWD, a Single-Lever Braking System, and a Long-Travel Rear Suspension that can tackle the roughest of terrains. If we haven’t got you sold yet we’d like to mention the fact that it comes painted in Indy Red and White, both colors are taken directly from the Indy racecars that you know and love.
And if a 500 doesn’t sound like it has enough guts for you, you will be happy to hear that we have also introduced the Scrambler 500’s brother the SportsmanXP 850 EFI, into the family. Starting at $10,999 this unit include Anti-kickback Steering, New Ergonomics, 14in. Aluminum Wheels, On-demand AWD. Dual A-Arm Suspension and a 20% Larger Radiator. See your local dealer for further details or visit www.polarisindustries.com.

My internship experience

The falling economy has been a major influence in my search for an internship and a career in journalism. The competitive nature of the job market and the fact that a vast number of aspiring journalists and laid-off journalists are searching for the same internships that I am applying for made the search nearly impossible and of course filled with a lengthy amount of challenges.
I began my application process with a positive outlook which I found slowly morphed from that into something ugly. In reviewing my internship application attempts I saw that my first application was sent out as early as November 11th 2008, I was an eager student it seems. Through the months that followed I attempted to gain an internship with a wide variety of journalism fortes. This occurred until the end of July, when I finally gave up. I had sent application to newspapers ranging from Kamloops This Week, to the Province. I inquired about magazines ranging from Thompson Life to WedLux, a magazine encircling western Canada weddings. I contacted Public relations forums such as Venture Kamloops and the Kamloops Fire centre. I contacted numerous websites and every radio station and Television station I could think of.
What I learned from these encounters was one thing in particular, very few people will reply to you, even few in a timely fashion and no one will offer me an internship in the vicinity of the Kamloops area, ultimately resulting in my realization that if I wish to succeed as a journalist I would have to venture out of my happy Kamloops bubble and into a little known town in the middle of nowhere, likely in Alberta.
I wish that I had been better warned about the stress and difficulty of finding an internship. I wish I had known I would have had to send out at least 20 applications to no avail. I wish that I had been better prepared for the disappointment and the depression to follow. A warning would have been greatly appreciated.
With my dreams of becoming a journalist failing; I decided to give freelance a shot, only to find out this would be even more stressful than being turned down for numerous internships was.
Jordan Baker and I attempted a freelance article about a local organization, “the Kamloops community band,” for which we researched, interviewed and wrote up a 400 word article in a timely fashion. We submitted our story to the Kamloops Daily News with high hopes and awaited a response.
Following what we had learned in class we did no send out multiple submissions and we awaited a reply. Two and a half weeks later we had nothing. With this we had given up, I realized that freelance is a lot harder than I had originally thought. I inquired with the paper a final time and asked if they had received my article, to which they replied that it was appearing in the following day’s paper, a fact I would not have known if I had not e-mailed them again.
This lack of response and lack of manners on their behalf offended me greatly, and forced me to wonder if all editors are this rude that they do not even send out a “thanks we received your submission” e-mail.
My other attempt at freelance photography turned out to be my diamond in the rough. I found myself successful when not having to rely on the acceptance or mannerisms of other people in the media. I realized that my success will be dependant on myself. I will ultimately end up having to start my own business of sorts to be a success, or to be stress free, as odd as that sounds.
I now find myself with the possibility of a new career path, one likely not in journalism at all. In theory if I were able to gain a position in journalism I would accept it, even more so if the position were in public relations. More than likely though I will attempt to pursue a position in design of some sort, digital art is a possibility, marketing and advertising are also quite high in my mind.
In the end my experience taught me that life is a lot harder than I originally expected, the challenges that occur are merely stepping stones to another path, possibly a path that has never even been thought of before or considered in any length. I am still happy in my decision to pursue a degree in journalism but am open to the fact that I will likely have to branch out elsewhere in order to be successful or happy for that matter.
My largest realization is in the fact that I am far too creative and free-spirited of a person to be able to deal with a nine to five job in which my only requirements are to write and re-write stories designed around an inverted pyramid structure. I have a flair for art that could actually be used as an advantage rather than simply a hobby. My background, in digital art, theatre studies, acting, drawing, painting, photography, design, writing (poetry and fiction), and construction (of fences, architecture pertaining to glass installation and metal works, and a varying degree of projects)can actually be of use. I have an eye for the creative, the obscure, and the previously un-attempted; all of which could be greatly useful in a variety of other career paths. These pre-existing tools in my tool belt added to those I have encountered in journalism school, can be morphed together, to create a vast array of skills that could be used in a number of disciplines, both related to and slightly astray from journalism. In the end I think I learned a lot about myself as an individual more than I did about the world of journalism, but who is to say that is a bad thing.

Master chief- where have you gone

As a true x-box gamer I will admit that I was once addicted to Halo. I have beaten Halo 3 on Legendary and collected all of the skulls, yes even the one that requires you to jump through the hoops in order to play the halo theme. I was at the forefront of this discovery checking blogs every hour or so and attempting the impossible. I watched the trailer at the end and understood that master-chief would one day... and I began to wait. Then one day Halo wars was released... yet I found no love or connection to this addition to the trilogy, and ignored its existance for the most part. Hell I was far to busy with COD 5 to even care about this spinoff. But now after a long awaited, muchly anticipated period of time; m friend shawn has informed me that he has downloaded the new Halo on his modded x-box. I am filled with excitement, thumbs are itching for my controler, ready to camp if I must. Now I know that the game has not yet been released and as such I am forced to play under a gamer tag that is not my own... logically the people at x-box would realize we had a modded x-box if we attempted it under our own names;so here I go under a secret-gamertag, ready to take on the game without an internet connection, until its actual release date on the 22nd, at which point we can pick up some other friends across the online world and attack legendary.

A confession of a true shopoholic

I am a stereotypical girl in the fact that I have an unnaturally large collection of both purses and shoes for no apparent reason. I am not a shopoholic in the way the phrase is normally coined. What I mean by this is that I am not followed by a vast amount of credit card debt. On the contrary; I have money saved in the bank, money for a house one day, but that is a different story. My shoping impulses are brought on with boredom. I go shoping to kill time, a habbit many women suffer from you see. We are not plagued by the idea that we must own one of every shoe out there as our male conterparts often think, we are simply bored. The town I live in does not offer a large array of cheap ways to kill time. i attended my university back to school barbeque and after dropping my friend off at home and taking my dogs for a run at the park I found myself with an hour and a half to kill before work. Now logically I could have started some of my readings for one of my classes but who wants to do that when there are shops to be browsed. I entered our local "winners" store, with nothing in particular in mind to buy but with the useful knowledge that new stock came in on thursday, which it does every week, so I found myself ready too search. I begin in the purse section as I usually do and find six or seven Kathy Van Zealands that I do not need, but would very much like. I place 2 of them in my basket after a fair amount of diliberation. I then carry on to the housewheres section hitting bed, bath, kitchen and decor where it hurts... my wallet that is. I find myself in the book section hiding my pursese behind a set of photo albums knowing quite well I do not need them, but will leave them there in hopes I return richer tomorrow. Elapsed time at this point... one hour. I put down my basket in the middle of the overpowering scent of candles and proceed to leave the store, having not spent a penny today. I leave with the knowledge that I did not need anything in my basket though I certainly wanted it, and knowing that I have sucessfully killed time before work and not killed my credit. I shop out of boredom I buy out of necessity. It is a skill women need to pick up, learn that you can simply put down your basket and walk away... It would help many a family I assure you. 

Idiot proof guide to university

As a fourth year university student I have a fair understanding of the workings of University. I know where to get in line for my student card, how to skip that line by walking to the front with last years ID and asking for a sticker to update my card. I could also get the photo taken a month in advance or wait until the end of september when the lines are gone. I know where to go to get my free agenda and my U-pass sticker. I know that if I don't want to waiti in line at the bookstore for my books I can go in a week or even a month before school starts. I know to pay for and register for everything including my parking pass online. But for first and second year students this is not easily accessible information. I beleive that a "How to get around the lines" guide would be a useful thing to hand out to students on their first day of school... or mail it to them a month in advance. Why do Universities not provide this sort of information or guidebook for new students. I know that during my first year of University it would have been useful to know that I did not need to stand in line for hours for my books or for my student card in the first week of school. A step by step guide would be nice, so why not ask for one.  

Damn you plastic

In every store I enter I find myself being asked if I have a points card for their particular store. I do agree that I enjoy collecting points when I am rewarded with free items due to my being a regular customer but it is such an annoyance to have to carry a card for every place I wish to shop. I understand that is some sort of tracking system for the government to keep tabs on my shopping habits so they can sell this information to advertisers and companies can then gear their ads to certain demographics or the company can simply do this themselves but I find it to be a giant pain in the butt and a destructive matter to the environment to be required to carry a seperate card for everyone of these stores. In my opinion I have nothing against gaining points or getting discounts but I hate wasting time searching through my wallet for the right card. Or waiting for the person in from of me to search through their wallet for that matter.... Or there entire purse to find their bloody wallet in the first palce. It would be very easy if all of these items were simply changed over to one card... or a wrist band, which you could go online, sign up for everything you wanted to and bam they would all be there with your information at hand when you got to the store... Mastercard, visa and Debit card included. Though I am sure people would find ways to steal these cards... like cutting off a persons arm to steal their wrist band but the idea seems so much simpler... Another idea would be to turn all of this information into a single data base that could be accessed through our thumbprints or fingerprints for example. Nearly impossible to steal aside from burning off finger prints or cutting off peoples hands. Why not. I would be perfectly okay with the government scanning my thumbprint and allowing me access to every card in my wallet simply by placing my thumb on a scanner... Hell in "back to the future II" The cops used peoples thumbs as their ID, or a key to their home... so why the hell not. No more need for a wallet, or purse they are hassle and a terrible christmas or fathers day gift for dad, So allow the government to track us as they are already attempting its bound to get their some day anyways so Why not now

i am suzy homemaker...so what

Today, I am a called Suzy Homemaker by choice. I woke up, fed our dog, did the laundry, loadded the dishwasher and cleaned the house. I picked up a few things at the store and set out to prepare a full meal complete with a ham. This is my own undertaking, I am not obligated to be a housewife, it is a lifestyle I choose. I do npot have a husband, or children for that matter, but I do have a boyfriend and a dog... Though I suppose that's close to the same... I could see foxy making a wonderful life companion... and as for the boyfriend well yes I asuppose I could consider him a child given how much I cean up after him and need to nag him to clean his up his toys or his room. Though in this case he has slightly more expensive toys. The point I am trying to get accross here is that there is nothing wrong in my mind with being a stereotypical homemaker, it is actually quite rewarding. I do beleive in women's rights and am a firm beleiver that women do deserve the opportunity to be the primary breadwinner, but it is not a necessity. I work, I also go to school full time, and in my free time I have a number of hobbies. Some of them are slightly unconventional for a woman... 4x4ing, quading, and video gaming for example but something I truly get enjoyment out of is cooking a meal for my family. It is a truly rewarding experience preparing a meal for guests and being complimented on a job well done. I do not feel as though I am degraded as a woman by doing the cooking and cleaning, i feel empowered. Being able to prepare a delicious meal or keep a neat house it a truly rewarding experience. Though these jobs are said to be mens punishment on women for being the weaker sex I feel as though they are a priveledge, somethign that I am skilled in, yes I skill passed on to me by my mother, though some I have acquired on my own or even through my father. But I find them to be a useful skill in thir own. They are an enjoyable way to kill time and one of the things I would call a hobbie, not a chore. Cooking can take the mind off of a stressful day at work, or school, and in the end you are fed after the hobby is completed. I understand that some may find doing these things demeaning but they can truly be enjoyable if taken on in moderation and with passion to try something different and more challenging at every attempt

What is the purpose of the answering machine...

Today I set out on a freelance peice of writing with a fellow journalism student. we had the idea, the drive, and the tools to complete our task at hand... A simple article surrounding a community group that is in dire need of attention. We started out the ordeal of writing this article by calling our contacts we wishedx to interview... Sadly I got an answering machine. I was as professional as possible in leaving my message, left my name, the purpose of my call and a return phone number... all in correct and professional form. the call was left at approximately noon today. The time is now 6:00 pm... far past any time a person at a normal job would have returned home, to return my call. Now I understand I have left a message with their technologically placed secretary... But am I not allowed to call back, understand the article is of great importance but it is bad taste to call back after a person has left a message. I do suppose I will wait until tomorrow before making another move, it is just frustrating to be in this sense of telephone tag, a limbo I do not enjoy. Damn the answering machine, damn caller ID, I would rather make continuous calls every hour on the hour without seeming over eager... that is a right i would like to reserve

A challenge

Today I saw the movie "Julie and Julia" with my mother. As a writer...or aspiring one for that matter, I felt that I too should attempt a blog. The challenge I have for myself will be to write something insightful everyday for a year. Something helpful to writers, something insightful from other writers, or something inspired by the writings of others. A writers blog inspired by other writers, The purpose of which will be to help me to grow as a writer, and maybe as a person along the way. If I find myself having writers block I will simply find a quote on the internet, in a magazine, in a book, or wherever seems pertinant at the time and find an argument or inspiration of sorts within it. Adapting from the writings and styles of others will nurture my growth as a writer and allow me to become a successful one myself. So there you have it... One writer inspired by others... every day for a year 365 days to go... I seek help from the greats and the unkown, the famous and the anonymous. So for now I ask my forefathers for help... Shakespeare, Seuss, Sparks, and simply anyone else who will help me, lend me your creatity, and your muses... I am certain I will need them.

To write or not to write, that is the question

If you haven't figured it out by now, I am an avid lover of shakespeare. I always have been, I feel this obsession developed over my childhood, but truly took hold in my last year of high school. Sure you say, "everyone claims to like shakespeare, or at least every writer does," but for myself it is true. I envy his works, can quote his sonnets, and often find myself quoting him without even noticing it, but if that does not have you convinced I praise the very ground he walked on this will... I have his literature inked down my side. No it's nothing like Meghan fox's famous shakespeare tattoo, which is beautiful that is certain, but I am not a butterfly as she claims to be. I am however myself and that is but the truth. Who am I you may ask, well that is a question we all ask ourselves from time to time, well I am kaleena... but does that really mean anything. The label my parents chose for me, does that make me who I am or have any signifiicance over how I live my life... I doubt it, though for some a name can be a horrible pain when that name happens to rhyme with something that is terribly unflattering. For example if my name was pat and I happened to be a tad bit overweight I may become known as fatpat. Not really a name anyone would be proud of, but it is someones none the less. Is a name anything more than a means to address us, or track who we are, would a serial number be sufficient. If I were known by a number, such as my social security number, care card number, bank account number, or something of the like would people respond to me in a different means than they do now? If we were used to that sort of mannerism it would be perfectly acceptable to approach a stranger and say hi I'm 9524332, what's your number? Seems odd doesn't it, but that is after all how the government and most organizations address you, and you likely haven't noticed it in the least. when you get a statement from the bank does it not say "hello jane smith, account number 34527476967, we have important information about your credit report..." or do the people that send you bills not address you by your account number as well, the hospital, morgue, debt collectors, co-workers and universities too. Does our life really have anything in the least bit to do with our names... why do we even have them for that matter. The great William S once asked"What in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;" and I am wondering this now. My name has nothing to do with who I am , nothing to do with the way I live or anything for that matter, so why do we have them at all. I am what I say I am, I act as I feel and I am treated accordingly. I am " a rose by any other name." Or so says my side

My articles

Some articles written by me can be found at the following links:

http://theomega.ca/article/19094

http://www.bluecorncomics.com/archive/2009_04_01_narchive.html

http://theomega.ca/article/4859

http://theomega.ca/article/5283

What experience?

As summer draws to an end I begin to draw upon my experiences for help. Help in my future, help in my present and help to understand my past. As an assignment for one of my third year journalism courses I was required to complete an internship of some sort that will help me in my future career, wherever that may be. I am currently undecided if that career will take me to a newspaper, a magazine, radio, or even television... at this point I am not certain it will be related to journalism at all. Certainly a good way to waste 4 years and 20,000 dollars wasn't it. I admit I had every intention of gaining a career in the journalistic field when I entered the journalism program, however with the recent recession and losses of jobs in all fields, including my field of choice, my future does not look so amazing. The point is I have no experience I could not acquire an internship. This was not due to a lack of trying I certainly tried to the greatest of my abilities, or in my own opinion I did. I sent out resume after resume, emailed editor after editor, re-emailed these people over and over again as they led me on to beleive that there may be a chance for me within their company, but in the end I acheived nothing. I have a list of dates on which I contacted potential employers, dates on which they responded to my enquiries, the list goes on for pages, four to be exact, but I have no useable experience to show for my efforts. I assure you my lack of an internship was not due to a lack of effort, I tried. Now our other option that was given to us by our teachers was that of freelance journalism. Freelancing is an idea that I can comprehend I am more than capable of writing and submitting freelance articles, but please someone explain to me when I would have the time to freelance. Over the summer I have worked at not one, not two, but three jobs. It's expensive going to school. I took it upon myself to work as much as possible over the summer, to save as much as possible, so that I can concentrate on my studies in my final year of school. The reasoning for this is that I did not do very well this past year in school as I was working 32 hours a week on top of my 5 courses. This year I am cutting myself down to two shifts a week in order to concentrate on school. As a result my summer was given up for the purpose of work, work that will allow me to concentrate on school when the time is right. As such I had no time for freelance. I did manage to do some photography work for one of my employers over the summer.  For advertising purposes we are creating a coffee table book to give to clients filled with photos (taken by me) showcasing fences the company has built and what it is they offer. Yes that is correct I said fences. My summer was spent building fences. Ironically enough one of the fences was built on the property of the very teacher that is expecting me to complete an internship. If that wasn't enough I built a fence for Mel Rothenburger, the editor of the kamloops daily news, a potential employer... a man that turned myself down for an internship... Where is the justice in that. As it seems I am untrained, unexperienced, and unable to complete my course.... For now my future does not look very bright, but with a positive attitude all I can hope for is the opportunity I need. 

Romantic Discretion

In 2008 I was commissioned by myself to get a Tattoo in recognition of the English writer William Shakespeare. He was known greatly as the author of such works as Romeo and Juliet, King Lear, Julius Caser, Hamlet, and The Merchant of Venice to name a few. His plays are considered to be classics- sometimes compared to the brilliant works of the ancient Greek play writers, such as Socrates- the kind of literature that teachers introduce to you at a young age and can motivate and change you to follow a certain path in life. Many of his plays, or sonnets, are about romantic passion, falling madly in love and fighting for what you believe in. In designing the Tattoo I had simply wanted to tell Shakespeare’s story which, in my mind, was as passionate and mythic as the love he expressed in his sonnets. My pursuit of William Shakespeare did not originate when I began his biography. It started in 2000, before I even knew who he was, before I had even read a single word he wrote, before I had considered him a role model. The truth was I thought his writings were outdated, having never read anything he wrote, my understanding of him was through gossip of the uneducated masses that attended public school along-side me.
I had entered High-school with little aspirations, I strived for nothing more than a passing grade in my courses, I attempted little more than that which was asked of me. My English 8 teacher, Ms. Zagar, assigned a play for our class to read, Romeo and Juliet. The name of William Shakespeare has surfaced in my educational career- the play had brought forth a new inspiration for me. Suddenly I had to know how he had imagined these tales, for it seemed to me so real that I presumed he must have lived its story of love and loss.
I wrote of him. What I said I can no longer remember, and when I think back on it, nine years later, I assume it was not the literary genius I presumed it to be at the time. It wasn’t an important part of my role model.
I continued to read Shakespeare’s plays as I moved through high-school. In grade 12 I was introduced to the Sonnet’s of William, by yet another of my teachers, Mrs. Birce.
Though I wasn’t in pursuit of knowledge or insight into my own life at this point, I can remember thinking about my own attempts at romance and poetry previous to this moment. I certainly never got around to copying his formula for sonnets about romance. Perhaps I just wanted to imagine myself to be his mistress, I was not in need of my own. His words reminded me of a line I had once read in one of his plays; “What’s in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I did not realize then that that particular phrase would be the answer to what I needed to know about love and hurt later on in life.
I had placed that first encounter with William on a recessed shelf somewhere in my mind. It would be half a decade before I would realize that, in one play, he had offered me all the inspiration I would need to move forward in my own life.
When I was but eighteen, I travelled the globe in search of meaning for my life, there are still photos to prove it. I remember my mother was happy, as any mother would be, at the growth of her child. I wonder if it seemed as though I was growing up, or was she surprised this child of hers trying so diligently to travel on her own. I travelled to London, William’s stomping grounds, in search of more insight into myself. I new there was some sort of connection between the two of our lives but I could not quite establish just what it was. When I discovered that the globe theatre, Shakespeare’s beloved place of work, had burned down multiple times, I knew that that meant. It was as if it was a metaphor for myself that I would be burned or fall down many times, when men would take advantage of my sweet demeanour, I would feel abandoned but for some reason there would be the ability to rebuild.
Freedom was something I never really understood. My lesson was really quite simple, how to say I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS, something I hadn’t been able to do before. In the end it didn’t matter whether I got it or not. In the end, in fact, I was lucky I did because if I had settled for what I had and accepted defeat, I may not be alive today. When a relationship was over in 2008 and the lies and mask were stripped away, the person standing there was a stranger. For abusive relationships- all of that is most dramatic, indeed not love at all, and unrecognizable is you. I weaned myself of his obsessive owning nature, in my endless counselling sessions and meetings with the police; I discovered the word “abuse.” I had to accept the fact that I had allowed abuse to manipulate my life, I was a different version of me than the greatly accepted and happy version I had previously been. Depression is not a life solution. I had fallen under the illusion that someone claiming to love me would never mean to physically or mentally hurt or crush me. I discovered life was much wiser than I was. A Year later I would find myself in court facing the creature I had allowed to ruin me. I answered the questions from his lawyer, and cried uncontrollably. I felt a wonderful sense of closure, laced with pain, at the intensity of knowing he would be held responsible for what he did to me. As Dr. Seuss once said, “Be who you are and say what you feel for those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”
Do we allow others to belittle us because we have learned it from literature? The story of abuse had to start somewhere. One might say males have always abused us. But the rarely get caught doing it. The trick is that they somehow know just how to manipulate us into believing we are but nothing. It always confused me how women would allow themselves to become victim, to allow themselves hurt and why they would chose to stay with someone that treated them in this matter. Women haven’t grown strong enough I thought.
If I had not been in pain, I would have seen what he was doing to me. For abuse seems necessarily to be built on deflation, the crushing of ones aspirations and soul. The abuser seems always to be a frenetic trickster, a shape-shifter. In abuse, if you are a woman, you always seem to be forgiving someone. A man presents his life to be perfect and you are made to believe that you are nothing. He becomes the centre of your world and you are made his servant. In my own case, I am appalled in retrospect to think how familiar the abuse was. He was exactly like my step father. Not that he’d ever abused me, I remember his treatment of my mother; never physical, but emotionally draining. He called her names. He picked apart her looks to make her self conscious. I believe that he feared were he to stop belittling her, she would leave his pathetic ass; no love. But I could never have let this happen to me. Like my mother, I had lost myself. Meanwhile our pathetic dance continued; he attacking: physically and mentally: me believing I was nothing and truly deserved his treatment.
My story with William Shakespeare picks up at the end of this pathetic relationships life when I left him after a year and a half. I can remember once crying myself to sleep and he tuned me out and said, with complete sincerity, “Nobody cares.” I still did not know it was Shakespeare’s words that would keep me from allowing him to hurt me, six months later, I commissioned an idea. Then I headed back into the world of Shakespeare, retracing his words significance.
I think of my allowance of abuse and my existence dwindling. As I said, it framed my search. Shakespeare understood that we would feel pain and hurt in our lives. I was still wrestling with the quote that best symbolized me- not the deflated, but the stronger version who believed in herself. It is not easy to escape abuse, but we must not allow hurtful things to break us, no matter what is said or done to us we are still ourselves. If I need a reminder; I am “a rose by any other name.”

What is plagiarism and where do you draw the line between attribution and theft.

Plagiarism is the borrowing or stealing of another’s work of literature without attributing that these thoughts are not your own and that they in fact came from a different place. The line between attribution and theft is a scary one. A forgetful writer may very well be sorting through their notes find a handwritten thought and think it their own rather than the source it was originally from. Technically this is theft and plagiarism but how can we hold this person responsible for simply forgetting to write down a source at the time of note taking. In theory any sort of plagiarism is theft it is the responsibility of the writer to attribute where their thoughts have come from, if they are lifted from some back space of memory it is still theft. In theory the only way to keep from literary theft is to have never read any literary works which is impossible. Theft will occur; attribute when you can; when you miss an attribution admit your mistake accept embarrassment. You have no one to blame but yourself.