What's it called when you reproduce someone else's work?

Today's blog has been mercilessly nicked from a newspaper column and edited as needed. I couldn't help it. It's just such an awesome bit of writing. And was kinda a apt for where my headspace was at a few days ago. Credit where credit is due though.

Today Marnix is taking a long, hard look at himself.

There comes a moment in every big-budget story of pride, fall, redemption, hope and a bit at the end where someone wise dies (perhaps Morgan Freeman) while everybody else cries and looks brave, where you have to hit rock bottom. Rock bottom is an important place. No mild-mannered idiot savant character played by Tom Hanks or Tim Robbins can ever truly become smug and glib and, for some reason, rich right at the end if they haven't hit rock bottom on the way. Rock bottom is the bit where they have a moment of life-changing epiphany, often involving crying and doing some overblown "acting" where they shout "goddammit I just don't know ... who I AM any more", or where it rains on them heavily and they sink to their knees and look up to the sky and wail. Or where they get really badly beaten up outside a bar by some faceless men in jeans and cowboy boots who say "hell yeah" and "asshole" as they walk off leaving Tom Cruise/Will Smith/the de-superpowered Superman lying bleeding in a car park full of pickup trucks where you can hear the faint jangle of country and western music from inside.

Rock bottom is good for you. It gives you a sense of steely purpose. And, like an opening scene where you briefly play baseball in the street with an adorable neighbourhood orphan child who appears to know you well and gives you a high five as you scoot off to hop in your car and upbeat power pop music plays gently in the background, establishing that you're a fun, cool, hip hard-working guy, it also proves that you're nice. And destined to go out with Julia Roberts/crack the case/become not just rich but also at peace and be best friends with a wisecracking fat man.

For all these reasons, it's with a sense of some occasion that Marnix can announce that this afternoon he has finally hit rock bottom. Marnix is weeping on Whoopi Goldberg's shoulder. He is on its knees in the snow. And he feels relieved, happy in a funny kind of way, to report the only way is up.

As I say, this is kinda where my head was a few days ago. But only kinda. I wasn't at rock bottom. I was low but I have wonderful friends and equally wonderful semi-anonymous readers who gathered together in a tag-team pincer movement to slap me round the chops, lend me their perspective goggles and remind me that everything works out for the best.