getmygoat

One thing that really gets my goat is the way people make light of mental illness. I’m not talking about people who fake insanity to get out of responsibilities; they know what they’re doing is wrong. I’m talking about the people who will say, casually that they are ADHD, schizophrenic, or OCD. We all know at least one of these people.

“Oh, I’m so ADD today; I just can’t pay attention!”

“I’m such a neat freak. I’m OCD about it!”

“You sound so schizophrenic when you sing both parts of that duet.”

Oh, aren’t you funny! Can you sit through a half-hour television show? Follow two-part directions? Easily? Then your “ADD” is probably nothing more than you not paying attention. My best friend is hyperactive, and I’ve worked with many ADHD-diagnosed children. They struggle with an ailment. Do not make light of it.

The other two upset me even more. You’re OCD? That’s interesting. I didn’t notice that your hands are rubbed raw from washing them. Just how many times did you check the locks today? And I find it interesting that the way I sing makes you suddenly aware of whatever voices I may have in my head.

It doesn’t work like that. There are plenty of people in the world today who do deal with their mental problems and cannot talk about it because of the stigma we as a society have placed on the mentally ill. So don’t go around telling people that you have something you don’t. Respect the people who live with it every day, and learn to cope with your own minor problems accordingly.

I promised myself I wouldn’t blog about this until I’d finished reading the book, but the goat talked me into it. I’m currently reading Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees. I won’t tell you too much about the plot because it’s a book well worth reading, and I wouldn’t want my spoilers to keep someone from picking it up (or, if you prefer, seeing the movie adaptation).

It takes place during the Civil Rights movement; in one of the first chapters, a woman of color tries to register to vote in a small town in South Carolina. Unfortunately the law was more advanced than popular attitudes, and many racist people intimidated and threatened those making their way to the polls. The book does a good job of depicting what I know happened in America not-so-many years ago.

It’s an interesting experience to read The Secret Life of Bees right after the most recent election. Less than fifty years ago certain men and women could not make their way to the poll, were turned away, or were threatened with violence. While hate and racism are still prevalent in the United States, I was thankful for the reminder of our progress.

It took forty-three presidential administrations before we finally allowed a non(entirely)white person to run things. I hope that other marginalized citizens can find the strength and power that was so vibrant in the Civil Rights Movement of the sixties and seventies. I hope that one day people can simply be people without race, gender, sexuality, or class getting in the way.

My goat and I apologize for editorializing; we really have nothing to ask this time. Our next entry will be more interactive. Until then, pick up a copy of Bees.

Yesterday I participated in creating history when I voted in the 2008 election. Last night I witnessed that history at the Election Party I attended. When future generations ask me where I was when the first nonwhite president was elected, I can easily answer that I was surrounded by friends with a High Life in one hand, talking about how the hell I’m going to get into graduate school.

In all seriousness, though, I kept an eye on the results as they came in, and the excitement in the room was contagious. Usually I cast my vote and expect answers the next day; I attended the gathering to avoid another slow night at my house. Instead I found myself listening to the speeches (both of which were delivered tastefully, in my opinion) and making new friends. It was indeed a night of great change, and I don’t just mean trying a new beer.

This election was different in so many ways; with the new methods of voting and the technology possible to tabulate, calculate, and project the findings, this election was an entirely new experience for everyone who participated. I even witnessed an impact on people who did not vote, but will still reside in America for the next four years (which is their right, just as I said in my last post ); one of my friends at the party who abstained from voting this year was swept up in the excitement of watching history unfold.

Regardless of how you cast your vote (or whether or not you cast a vote), you cannot deny the significance of this election. May the next four years be good ones (the goat and I will be watching).

You’re expecting me to tell you to vote, aren’t you? Well I’m not. I did, and I think it’s a good idea to do so, but I know several people who don’t vote for various reasons, and I respect that.

No, instead I will wax poetic about the election system. I’ll admit that I didn’t think much about how it works until I watched the John Adams miniseries. I take for granted that every four years we have the following process: primaries, nominations, mudslinging, election. So it was interesting to see how a small group of Old White Men used to cast their votes for various party members running separately; in the end, the person with the most votes was president, and the person with the second-most votes became vice president, and so forth. While I am glad that voting is open to women and minorities (although America certainly did take its sweet time on that one), I can’t help but wonder how this system would work today.

Would third-party candidates have a better chance? What would happen if George W. Bush’s vice president had been Al Gore or John Kerry? How would McCain and Obama run the country together?

I have a feeling it would be a huge mess, considering some of the major hot-button issues dividing the two dominant parties. Then again, Adams and Jefferson managed to work out some pretty huge political differences together (although the movie depicted the vice presidency as relatively removed from national politics at large).

So vote, or don’t. I won’t tell you what to do, except to think about how the nature of the electorate has changed since the birth of our country.

My goat and I have no problems with looking a gift horse in the mouth. We’re going to go ahead and ask the question on everyone’s mind: Why are gas prices so low?

My friend thinks that it’s a distraction to keep us from thinking about the bad economy. My dad thinks it’s a strategy to get people to buy expensive American-made SUVs because fuel is cheaper. I’ve been tossing around the idea that it’s an effort to get people in good spirits right before the election (I’ll be at the pump with my extra gas cans tomorrow). My goat thinks gasoline prices are dropping because the ungulates have discovered a strange way to find energy by eating grass; I tried to explain that things aren’t the same for humans, but he won’t listen.

I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theorist here, but I can’t help but wonder exactly what prompted fuel prices to drop almost by half in the middle of a global economic crisis. It’s kind of like declaring bankruptcy, then building an addition to your house; someone will notice. I’m sure my goat and I aren’t the only ones who think something fishy is afoot.

I’m not renouncing the good of lower prices, not by any means. I’ve been able to borrow the family cars more frequently without the usual accompanying guilt trip and wallet-flattening. My friends are all suddenly more anxious to go places with me. The only luxury missing is that people haven’t stopped talking about high gas prices; now instead of complaining about the high price, everyone is wondering when the price will go back up.