Once upon a time, in a primary school oh so very far away there was a redhead child who had another girl follow her, copy her small phrases and dress alike.
No, this is not a stalker.
Rather imitation back in the days when concern was what Barbie Doll would come to Show and Tell or Where Wally actually was, it was the sincerest form of flattery.
Once were sweet little apples with cherubic cheeks and now we all have a case of sour grapes, deeming imitation as the devil incarnated and up in our business, not in a good way.
Today if we copy, bam, into jail or a hefty fine. I’m not condoning that we all get essays copied off the internet and say that we were complementing the write by using their piece, word by word. No, that is taking my words out of context.
It seems that to copy someone is to have an offence, and what happens if we have a younger sister or brother that copies our words, is that grand theft of intellectual property? Rather we should adore these moments, for they really are the purest forms of flattery.
But back to the world of drunken uni students and rocking up to a party (not themed) and seeing another girl in YOUR dress or shirt, and you immediately take offence, feeling more shame at this moment than if there were a sex tape floating about, and that is saying something my friends.
Where did I lose the post it note telling me that copying and imitating were all that bad, and that they were not flattery?
Seems the ship has sailed from this blogger.
No comments:
Post a Comment