Yellow Gal

Friday, September 02, 2011

Things learned the hard way #582,376

Never rely on anyone to be accountable.

(This statement is the kinder cousin to the corollary, "Trust no one.")

Earlier this week, I had spoken with my manager about an Issue. "I'm on top of it," he assured me. "Don't worry about it, I'll let the Senior Boss know I'm on it."

This morning, however, I received a terse email:

Yellow Gal,

It has come to my attention that [the Issue] was not resolved. I took care of it. In the future, please ensure that [the Issue] is resolved and update me on its status.

Thanks.
Senior Boss

Immediately after receiving the email, I called Senior Boss.

It rang twice before he picked up. "Hello, this is [Senior Boss]."

"Hi Senior Boss, this is Yellow Gal, how are you?"

"Fine."

I waited for him to ask how I was doing. After three seconds, I realized that wasn't going to happen, so I said, "I received your email. Manager told me he took care of the Issue, and would talk to you. I assumed he resolved it."

"Well he didn't," Senior Boss said. I could hear the irritation grating in his voice. "I understand what you're saying. But in the future, talk to me directly instead of just speaking with Manager."

"Understood" was what I should have said. "Okay!" was what I chirped.

There were a few seconds of subsiding silence. Then he proceeded to talk about other work matters.

So yeah. Even if it's your manager or someone you typically rely on, follow up. A tiny thought flitted through my mind that maybe I should have looped back to Senior Boss - but I didn't.

Listen to the tiny thought.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Resolution (sort of)

I received the following message from "The Blogger Team" after reporting all 151 of my plagiarized blog entries:

Hello,

Thanks for reaching out to us.

We have received your DMCA complaint. Upon recent review of the blog(s) mentioned in your complaint, it appears that the post(s) in question no longer exist(s). If this matter is still a concern, please reply to this email with detailed information to enable us to locate the allegedly infringing content.

Regards,

The Google Team

So that's that.

I guess she deleted the blog herself rather than waiting for Blogger to investigate and shut it down.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Violation

Plagiarizing someone's blog is not only a legal and moral violation. It's a personal violation.

I have blogged about so many things - my childhood, my father who passed away, conversations with my mother, men I have dated before I met my husband, racism I have experienced, feelings of self-doubt, neurosis, and insecurity. These moments are intimate to my life. They are mine.

To see someone take those memories and feelings, and replace a word or two with some other inane noun or verb is such an insult to the original memory or feeling. It is a violation of the most intimate kind.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

It's still on.

I looked through Thinking's blog, and learned she plagiarized multiple other bloggers.

I contacted and emailed each and every one of them, and posted the precise link to Thinking's blog that copies their blog entries. Hopefully, Blogger will take down the blog.

I attempted to comment on Thinking's blog, but she moderates her comments, so obviously she will disapprove any comment pointing out her plagiarism. She also conveniently deleted my previous posts on her blog about her plagiarized blog entries.

It looks like Crystal Jigsaw and I were the most heavily plagiarized. We'll see what happens next.

151 Plagiarized Entries (at least)

It's on like Donkey Kong.

Well I tried.

It turns out that Thinking has not only plagiarized my blog, but other bloggers as well. And continues to do it to this day, despite her apology on my blog.

If you visit her page right now, the first post dated August 25, 2011 titled, "If I were a beloved Husband!," is plagiarized from fridz's blog entry, "if i were a boy."

Her next post dated August 22, 2011 titled, "Who is THINKING ?" (not Thinking, obviously), is plagiarized from Crystal Jigsaw's blog entry, "Who Is Crystal Jigsaw?"

And many, many other entries have been copied, pasted, and tinkered with just enough to render them non-identical. I plan to contact these other bloggers, contact Blogger, and call Thinking out on her blog.

Is this personal?

Yeah, this is personal.

Friday, August 05, 2011

The permanence of love

Last night, a friend passed away.

She was one of those girls who was always in a good mood. Funny, slightly goofy, and unafraid to stand in front of a crowd during karaoke and belt her heart out. She was an aspiring violinist, and played in a few chamber orchestras in the city. Her dream was to play for the New York Philharmonic. She was my age.

The moment I found out she was pregnant, I congratulated her and her husband on their expectancy. She was super excited and stoked to be an expecting mother. They found out they were having a son and I was so happy for her.

Yesterday, she checked into the hospital. Later that evening, they induced labor and she gave birth to a beautiful, healthy girl. The doctors noticed something was very very wrong, and called her family immediately. When the family arrived, the doctors delivered the bad news: she had suffered from internal bleeding, and passed away.

It is devastating on so many levels. Her husband is a widower at just age 35. He lost his life partner, his best friend, his wife. They seemed so happy together, and all of a sudden she's just gone. The infant daughter will no doubt be showered with love for the rest of her life. But she will never know her mother. And her birth will forever be linked with her mother's death.

I think of my friend. She was so vibrant. I remember her counting the days to her giving birth, her exclaiming that in just X number of days, she was going to be a mommy. Her baby shower was just a couple weeks ago.

It just seems impossible that someone who can be so full of life one day be simply gone the next. Where does that life force go? That energy, that expectant joy and excitement? Does it simply vanish? It just seems so shocking and stark, it makes no sense.

Her daughter will never know her mother. But I know that the daughter will learn about her mother when she grows older, through videos, photographs, and stories. The daughter will listen to recordings of her mother playing the violin. She will watch her parents' wedding video, and see photographs of her mother dressed as Batgirl at her last Halloween party.

I have faith that the rest of the family will inherit the love my friend would have had for her daughter, and will shower the daughter with that love. That love will never vanish. It will live on in those who share it.

Thursday, August 04, 2011

Run.

I really want to run tonight. Run the anxiety out of my toes. Run the thoughts out of my head. Running is one of the few times where you are in complete control of the situation: how long you run, how fast you run, what you wear.

If you want to stop, you can stop. If you want to go farther than yesterday, you can. No judgment.

It's kind of nice.

Redemption

I believe in redemption. I believe people can make a mistake and later have the choice to do the right thing.

So far, my admirer/plagiarizer has not issued any public apology or detraction on her blog. It makes me sad. And it puts me in a very uncomfortable, unfortunate situation. I really do not want to go onto each entry and post my original entry to discredit her.

I really want to give her the choice. Everyone deserves a chance.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Plagiarized blogs abound

I googled "plagiarized blog" and numerous websites popped up on other bloggers who have been plagiarized. Looks like I'm not alone:

A published author named Mary W. Walters discovered her blog was being plagiarized extensively just a couple weeks ago, and is looking into what she can do.

Another blogger, Truthful Mommy, has had her blog plagiarized multiple times. She provides several solutions, like installing software that prevents people from copy-and-pasting her blog text.

There are also articles on preventing blog content theft:

and so many more!

Thanks to techiedevil, a blogger on Internet Marketing Journal, I learned how to prevent content theft by employing a script that prevents copy-and-pasting as suggested by Truthful Mommy above.

We'll wait and see what happens next!

Plagiarism is the sincerest form of flattery

I just discovered someone has been plagiarizing my blog! I am both flattered and disturbed right now. Well, if you're reading this, "Thinking," I have just outed you.

The blogger, "Thinking," has a blog entry, "I am White Swan !" dated September 23, 2010, that is almost word-for-word identical to my blog entry, "I am a white swan," dated December 3, 2005. "Thinking" added a sentence or two, but they're pretty much the same. Click on the two hyperlinks, and judge for yourselves.

Just found another one, "Not that INTO me ?" dated August 12, 2010, which is eerily similar to one of my older entries, "He's just not that into me?" dated December 25, 2005.

I don't have the time or energy to see what other entries "Thinking" copied and slightly modified for "originality's sake." Suffice it to say, I don't mind if people quote, copy, whatever from my blog. Just give me some credit!

Of course, I read all the comments to "Thinking's blog entries" and read them as if they're responding to me. Also, I will post a comment on her blog. Who knows how many other bloggers have been plagiarized?

To quote Thinking, "I am honored" to have been plagiarized. (See? This sentence is an example of attributing credit.)

Our avatars

Social networking is an interesting phenomenon. I am thinking of Facebook, in particular. It is a projection of what the user wants the world to see. Witty status updates, selected photographs showing only your good side, and only the interests, books, and movies you're not embarrassed of. Your profile is a well-crafted depiction of the person you wish others to see.

Not unlike online dating, in a way.

Or blogging. Admittedly, I shape my blog according to the messages, anecdotes, and fictions I want to convey. Yes, I sometimes include the unhappy, embarrassing, humbling moments, but even those moments are crafted.

Does anyone ever want anyone else to know the "real" us? Not just the embarrassing stories your college friends know, but the shit, despair, and humiliation. It was bad enough to go through it once; why relive that shit again by revealing it to people? Each new acquaintance is a blank slate from which you can construct your new persona. You were never a neglected child, an abused teen, or battered wife. You are simply a new person to this new acquaintance.

Revealing one's "real" self is a rare event, perhaps only to a select few -- a best friend, a significant other, at most. And that revelation of your true self is only when you truly believes you won't be judged for your flaws, mistakes, or traumas. It is also the only way to achieve genuine intimacy.

The rest of the world -- including our parents, friends, and coworkers -- is kept at arm's length; they see only a filtered version of our true selves. None of them know the "real" us. They only know our projections.

Friday, July 22, 2011

My list of places to visit (in no order)

Spain
Australia
Egypt
Portugal
New Zealand
Thailand
India
Turkey
Czech Republic
Japan
Costa Rica
Philippines
Ireland
Amsterdam
China

And revisit:

France
England
Greece
Italy
Brazil

I just need to win the lottery, that's all.

An update

So I should probably mention that I'm married now. Yep, married. Yay! (And don't ask me how many times someone said to me, "Hell has frozen over," at my wedding no less.)

Like advancing from "virgin" to "non-virgin" status, transitioning from "single" to "married" status isn't as mind-blowingly, awe-inspiringly explosive of a change as I thought it might be.

It's an easy transition. It's a nice transition. And it feels good to know I'll be with the same dude 'til I kick it.

When one gets married in her thirties versus twenties, there's a greater expectation to bear children sooner (as my mom has made abundantly, excessively, painstakingly clear to me on an hourly basis). One of the advantages of marrying earlier is being able to enjoy being married - traveling the globe with your spouse, going to the theater followed by late night frivolity - without the immediate fear of one's eggs drying up.

If my man and I want to have kids, we will not have the luxury of time to "enjoy being married."

That said, I'm glad my single life went the way it did. Sure, I still wish I had the chance to go speed-dating or attend a "bring your ex" party. And a few more pretty boys to play with and break my heart would have been entertaining fodder for this blog. But I feel like I got a lot of dysfunctional dating accomplished in the time allotted.

Disappointments, social retards, mind games, awkward moments, and rejection really make you appreciate the person you end up with.

Am I saying that someone has to treat you badly to enable you to appreciate being treated well? Not necessarily. But after finding so many dudes who don't fit, finding someone who does fit is pretty amazing.

One acquaintance put it, "It's a goddamn miracle." Not sure if that's a compliment or insult (I'm pretty sure it's the latter), but truth be told, I agree: it is a goddamn miracle to find a guy who fits you...and you fit him.

I still suck.

Following my 20/20 hindsight post below, I was confronted with another race-based comment by a coworker.

Three of us were standing in someone's office, when the following occurred:

Coworker #1: "Wow, I've been on the phone with all these foreigners today."

I think to myself, Foreigners? Did he just say 'foreigners'?

Given my vast knowledge of racial self-awareness, wit, and quick-paced thinking, I responded with a very assertive: "Huh."

Yet, without skipping a beat, Coworker #2 said: "Coworker #1, we're all foreigners. Wait, unless you're a Native American? No, I didn't think so."

Coworker #2: "[Stammering justification, explanation, etc.]"

Seriously, I suck.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

20/20 hindsight

My (white) friend was at a football game with some (white) friends at a large university. While sitting in the bleachers, they struck up a conversation with a couple (white) neighbors, a current university student with his father. At one point in the conversation, the student said, "I like it here a lot. The only thing is that there are too many Asian girls. All the Asian girls are detracting from the pretty girls here."

My friend and her friends just sat there and pretty much failed to respond. When she later told me this story, I was annoyed for two reasons:

(1) The comment was a direct insult to my peeps.
(2) She didn't stick up for me. None of them stood up for yellow womankind. They just took it.

I realize people are entitled to their opinions. Just like there are dudes who think all Asian chicks are hot, there are dudes who think Asian chicks are ugly. But still. A part of me gets mad thinking about how my friend didn't do anything to stand up against the racist comment.

But then another part of me reflects on my own behavior and gets mad for all the times I didn't stand up for something when I should have.

The other day, I was in the ladies room, chatting with a coworker. I asked her if she hung out in the city a lot (she lives in the burbs). She said, "Oh, no, there are too many people there -- it's so scary!"

"Oh really?" I asked, wondering how "too many people" could be scary.

"I was walking in the East Village the other day," she said, "and I was surrounded by all these black people. I thought I was going to get robbed!" She started laughing.

I was stunned and involuntarily smiled back. "What? Why would you think you were going to get robbed?"

"All those black people!"

Instead of standing up for what was right, I stammered, "Oh the East Village is safe..."

Later on, I was kicking myself for not saying something else. Of course, the responses flow to me now:

"Why do you think black people would rob you? That's racist."
"I have friends who are black and, um, none of them have robbed me."
"My fiance is black and he's never robbed anyone."
"I'm black."

(Okay the last two were hypothetical.)

I guess it's hard to think on one's feet when one is confronted with a statement so shocking and unexpected. Now that I think about it, there have been a number of times when I've been confronted with blatant racism and I had no idea how to respond. I can deal with low-level racist comments, like, "Asians are good at math" or "What are you?" But blatant comments like "I hate Mexicans" or "Asians are shitty drivers" - not so much.

I realize that all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing. I just gotta conjure my anti-racist comebacks faster!

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Peacefulness.

Classical music playing on the radio, against the backdrop of ambient city noise streaming in from an open window.

Friday, April 08, 2011

wo ai ni

I'm not Chinese but I know what it means.

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

Little gal

I am a complete woman. I know who I am and know what I want.

Yet every once in a while, I get bouts of neurotic insecurity, the kind that should only plague girls ages 10-17, not women who are educated and experienced in the real world. It is during these bouts of insecurity that I question my intelligence and my appearance--specifically, my weight.

Today I went to see my doctor for a regular check-up. She took my blood pressure and said, "It sounds healthy. Blood pressure can be on the low side for skinny people."

Hold up. Was she saying I was skinny? Skinny?? No, perhaps she was saying my blood pressure was healthy, but added an irrelevant bit of trivia on skinny people.

"So it's healthy?" I said.

"Yes," she said as she put the stethoscope away.

"But it was on the low side?"

"Yes, it's lower than the average person; but that's usually the case with skinny women."

"Oh okay," I said calmly, placing my hands on my lap. Inside, my heart fluttered at the thought that my doctor said I was "skinny," a word I reserved for the likes of Calista Flockhart and Keira Knightley. (Granted, I know I weigh more than 80 pounds, unlike Ms. Flockhart and Ms. Knightley - but still!)

So for this day only, I will savor the inadvertent, utterly superficial validation from my doctor, validation that should only exist for girls ages 10-17. This doesn't mean I'm not going to try to lose 5-10 more pounds before my wedding. But it will do for today.

Sunday, April 03, 2011

The more you know.

My friend, an attorney in a law firm, is also leaving his current position. His new job is pretty sweet: in-house counsel at a Fortune 300 company. After it was announced that he was leaving his position in a couple weeks, a few other attorneys in his practice group asked him to let them know if there are any additional openings in his new company.

What he said was "Absolutely."

What he thought was "HELL no."

He has seen the shady, underhanded things they do, the shortcuts they make, and the lapses in judgment. He's seen them drop the ball and blame it on someone else. He witnessed them breaching another coworker's privacy. Gossip, back-stabbing, and tattling to the partners--the list goes on.

"Why the fuck would I want to bring them over to my company?" he asked me. "Not only would they fuck up everything, they would make me look bad for recommending them."

"You have a point," I said.

"And the thing is, they KNOW that I know their shady bullshit. Do they really think I want my new company to hire a bunch of back-stabbing, incompetent lazy-asses?"

"Well, maybe they thought you guys were such good pals, you'd recommend them anyway," I said. He started shaking his head vehemently while I was talking. "Also, maybe they thought it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"Oh hell no," he said.

Amused by his growing agitation, I said, "Or, honestly, maybe they didn't think they did anything wrong."

After I said that, I think his head almost exploded. It made me laugh, but he didn't think it was that funny.

So what's the lesson here? It is perhaps a corollary to the "Don't burn bridges" axiom: Don't be a back-stabbing, incompetent lazy-ass. Or at least don't let your bosses or coworkers know you are a back-stabbing, incompetent lazy-ass.

Because you never know.