Fears of Art Theft, Copyright Theft or Any Theft

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Has anyone ever been scared about something you put blood sweat and tears into getting stolen out from under them? My mind wanders when I'm walking from place to place and this thought looped on repeat where my brain kept getting scared things would get worse and worse. I've had things stolen from me. Lots of things. The paranoia never really goes away. It snatches you up in their clutches and makes it hard to feel . . . safe. If distance makes the heart grow fonder than I am so in love with the distance between the thief and I to the level of a security blankie to hide under.

Stealing is easy, too easy really. I met a shoplifter who had her shopping basket bulging with clothes and she was grabbing a backpack to put all the stuff she didn't want to pay for. Her mother was even in the getaway vehicle outside the store. One small problem, I volunteer at the thrift store and the front desk is in full view of the whole shop. My colleague told me to watch out for this girl. By then, she was stuffing toys down you don't want to know where. She was acting really weird, even for a regular. The backpack she was going to haul her stolen goodies was of course on sale and she was going to have to take it to the cashier to buy and haul off her booty. 

My colleague told me to keep an eye on her because she was acting suspicious. I didn't know what she looked like. Shoplifters can be ordinary people, so can customers. I didn't want to go up to random strangers asking if they'd seen this girl. I didn't want to accidentally ask her if she'd seen this "suspicious person." I went straight to my boss to ask where this young lady was.

Problem #2: I didn't know what she looked like and could only describe her by her actions right in front of the dressing room and the employees only door.

"Have you seen this woman who's been stuffing her basket like a thanksgiving day turkey and I don't know what to do with her," I blurted out, politely I might add but I can't always gauge how I come off to others, "Her basket's overflowing with goods, and clothes, to the point I think she'll break her back if she heaves any more crud."

Now mind you, our store is small with an open floor gift shop of Fair Trade imports leading to four rows of thrift store goods in isles twice as wide as a supermodel. This slip of a girl was a walking roadblock with her back breaking burden hanging off one arm. Money from our store gets donated to charity. Money not given to charity goes back to the store. People of all ages, sizes, backgrounds and what have yous love coming to our store with color coded discounts and the wide variety of stuff donated by charitable people. Robbing from this place is literally stealing from the church since it is run by the Mennonites, and staffed by loving members of the Retired Senior Volunteer Program. Not to mention until 2016 I was the youngest member of this program and still look like a college student in a nerdy shirt and sweatpants. The only place we hadn't checked yet was the dressing room.

In the end, our thief revealed herself in hen pecked huff. In my stupidity I thought, no wonder she needs so many clothes. Her bum and bust line was threatening to snap that spray painted on outfit of hers like a rubber band. If her girdle, squeezed in by spaghetti straps, hadn't been tucked in then her body was threatening to muffin top in a vain effort to breathe.

"You're rude," sassed the thief in a nasally Oh-no-you-didn't voice. She slammed the shopping basket on the cashier desk. You might as well drop the mic but it lost its impact because everyone already saw her and didn't give a flying fig. Even my boss was standing there watching her turn up her nose.

That's when I realized I talked about her behind her back, in front of everyone, by the dressing room, and I thought I was trying to be discreet. Ah-ha! So that's where she went! Then Ew! That's where she went! The back room, dressing room, and the swinging doors are attached to the same thin wall and my voice carries when I'm passionate about something even small things like being helpful. She left a mess.

"I'm never shopping here again!" she griped and stalked home to her mother who probably liked shopping there.  

The only thing squeaking in protest were her pants.

In the end, her "shopping" included one or two stolen pencil toys. Her jiggly endowments were the only things baggy enough to stuff them in and the kid she handed them to asked her why they were all salty and wet. Probably threw them away because they went down a crack. None of the sets were pulled apart. Her backpack was stuffed with expensive shopping goods. However her haul was small and she just worked 13x harder to be lazy instead of paying for the whole stinking pile. I felt much better knowing she was a jerk instead of nice which made it easier not to care.

Stealing is easy nowadays, from copy and paste to downloading another person's hard work and changing the author's title. Anyone can steal but the more effort you put into putting off working on your own skills the bigger the burden weighing down our hard work basket. It's hard to think that working hard actually takes less work but it's true. I mean bases take forever for me to use but I can make thumbs look like actual thumbs and not bloated chicken drumsticks with benefits. I can draw nudes better so that the clothes look right. I can actually draw stuff from memory. Okay real credit goes to the numerous How to Draw Manga Books, six years of college, and four years pouring over art books in the public library and I can't say I was never lazy but the hard work pays off and losing all that hard work is like losing the legs you worked on for years.

I know people didn't come here for a story but I want to make my content worth my viewers time and I can't do that if I don't take credit for my work. Same with a lot of people who worry about art theft, copyright theft or other stuff. Most of the accounts get shut down so here's some tips and pointers from people wiser than me.

 I have to keep mind finding my evidence, documenting what I can, and try not to spend all day stewing over it. It puts one in quite a funk and who knows one of my pieces probably has had a name change, a personality complex, and got put on a sock in a department store, run by the Oh-no-you-didn't people . . . And I've had physical art stolen, entire sketchbooks, jump drives, cameras, and destroyed paintings. I've gotten better at my drawing and I can always make more but the biggest fear I have is turning into something worse than the art thief and that nightmare has had my mind in an unproductive feedback loop enough I'd asked Dad for art advice. The closest thing my Dad has ever used for a paintbrush had been a mop and when we collabed I used to hammer his fingers by accident doing leathercraft when I was 6.

"If all else fails," Dad shrugged, "Take it up with God. When you've hit rock bottom the least you can do is float back uptop."

He got that advice from Dave Ramsey's YouTube.

"What?" Dad quips, "Accountants can be creative too."


  • I found the clip, from a cartoon, but it really shows how the Sugar and Honey approach beats salt and vinegar approach seven times out of ten. Credit goes to Miraculous Ladybug. Spoiler alert, they'll get to be superhero teammates in the next season of the show. Some people are wondering "What the Fudgies! why?!" Others are squeeing, especially chloe fans. I'm thinking the writing is going to be interesting. Especially since Chloe is both a ladybug fangirl and hates Miranette. It's like a chocolatier having a love/hate relationship with strawberry mouse.

Thank you for reading this long winded journal. I wanted to turn my deep funk into something creative and if it's going to be here for the whole world to look at, it ought to be useful. If any of this has just hit a copyright snag, stick it in the comments below or pm me. If anyone's work gets stolen maybe a link back to the original might help? Infringement is set in stinky cheese foundation at this point. Hopefully this was informative and entertaining.
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