Dealing in Democracy—The Rehumanization of Bureaucracy

[Dealing in Democracy grasps at, wrestles with, questions, critiques, and explores mere tinges of the brittle and broken bones of American politics through my admittedly biased eyes and offers me an outlet through which to fumigate the horrors both presently presenting and ever-present.] 

Throughout this agonizingly long and malicious election cycle, and now especially post-election, I keep hearing about the failure of progressive policy—how the great social experiment in liberal ideals like equal opportunity, multiculturalism, environmental responsibility, and social justice have been rejected by the majority, even if the alternative is to burn the system to the ground.

Aside from the incorrect presumption of majority, as Clinton did indeed win the popular vote (as did Democrats for the Senate, though gerrymandering makes notions of popular will an impolite topic of conversation), I would argue that it is not the policies of progressivism that have failed, but the people appointed to enact and enforce those policies. To quote a celestially homicidal computer, "It can only be attributable to human error."

The depressing state of politics in southern Oregon

I could count it as another way I've been spoiled by growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, in addition to the food, diversity, culture, music and art scenes, local shops, and temperate weather—intense political activism. I grew up with a political-mindedness, and my parents didn't even have to brainwash my vulnerable baby-brain to do it. Awareness and advocacy of issues and policies and ideologies of things political is kind of part of the air when you live in the SF area, perhaps due to a combination of contextual history and the necessities demanded of a diverse population that exhorts inclusiveness but continues to to struggle with social/economic oppression.

I moved to southern Oregon 19 months ago, and the political landscape struck me as somewhat similar to California, if on a smaller scale—the larger cities are more liberal while rural areas are more conservative. I've benefited from Oregon public policy, namely the Oregon Health Plan, which has provided me stable health insurance for the first time in years. But I didn't realize how unpolitical things are until I began exploring my electoral options for mayor of Medford.

Two old white men who seem politically similar, neither of whom are very appealing to me, one of whom ran for mayor unopposed four years ago, and who are, actually, friends with one another. What the hell is wrong with this picture?

About that 2nd debate...and LDS missionaries

I was not looking forward to watching this debate, and if I hadn't accidentally flaked on a friend, I would have missed it (I fell asleep, since chronic insomnia has turned me into a pseudo-narcoleptic). But I decided it was my civic duty and tuned in anyway.

I was mostly prepped by various articles published online throughout the day (I check The Guardian, Slate, The Atlantic, and CNN often, the latter for a more mainstream, false-equivalence narrative). Trump's plan seemed to be to attack the opposing presidential nominee for her husband's actions, which just reinforces the misogyny inherent in Donald Trump, aside from that whole "grab them by the pussy" business.

It seemed Mr. Trump was prepped by professionals and a healthy dose of Ativan this time, though it was still more of the same—the absolute inability to answer whatever he's asked, making shit up and insisting it's true, ignoring the presence of reality, rudeness, bluster, and banter, blah blah.

The one aspect that made this feel different was the town hall format, which lets candidates move and walk around, presenting a physicality that was less apparent in the first debate. Quite frequently, the Donald loomed behind Clinton to the point where I half expected him to suddenly whip out a sword, scream "BOOOONNNNSSAAAAAAIIIIIII!!!" like a maniac, and lop her head off. But, no—he just interrupted a lot. Again.

About that debate...

I tend to read my news rather than watch news shows or channels or speeches or debates, but I figured the first Clinton v. Trump debate would be entertaining, at the least. Trump tried to repress his natural instincts for the first few minutes, but then gave in to his orangutang heritage and dutifully pounded his chest, flung shit from his cage, and masturbated his ego without shame. An hour and a half later—my voice hoarse from screaming at the television—it got even worse. Turning to groups of live viewers for aftermath interviews, most were utterly unaffected by the whole affair. Those who loved him still loved him, though were a little disappointed; those who don’t love him were “not surprised” by his behavior and shrugged their shoulders; those who are undecided had not yet decided…and shrugged their shoulders. 

Really?

Semantics — A to abattoir

[Words are units of metaphor, symbols strung together to convey meaning, the idea of something. Definitions are interpretations of meaning sussed out of usage—past, present, professional, colloquial, common and idiosyncratic. For the record, semantics means meaning, or the interpretation of meaning, specifically in relation to language. So yes, it is just semantics, but it is all just semantics.]

So...I am reading the dictionary (again), the New Oxford American Dictionary (NOAD). I'm also transcribing part of it--not every word, abbreviation, place, or name, but those words/parts of words I find of interest, which is most of them. This is not a transcription of that transcription, but a sharing of words as NOAD shared them with me. There are, in addition, some links and media and random ruminations regarding certain words, or ideas of words, or ideas about language, or ideas in general. 

Sadly, the OED is only available online for a very hefty price (I am using a hardcopy), so I will reference the Merriam-Webster online dictionary for linked definitions. The Online Etymology Dictionary is also a dear friend, so I will link to her often as well. 

I don't expect anyone to get anything out of this but me, though I would love someone to prove me wrong.

Retrospect—Mad in America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill

[Reviews from HexWhyZed are not in any way timely or culturally pertinent, just the impressions from a dimly-lit island in the distance and the flotsam jettisoned along its shores. They may also contain spoilers—you have been warned.]

It is a righteous fury I feel, and damn, it feels good.

I've always been an overtly sensitive person, emotions roiling just beneath the surface before erupting in sometimes inappropriate exhibitions of feeling. I was often chastised for this while growing up, creating a sensitivity to the condition of being sensitive. I've also had Depression for most of my life, and ten years ago I developed a chronic pain condition.

Invisible illness is inherently difficult to empathize with; humans believe what they can see, with the exception of old men in clouds and miracles burned on toast. Hearing voices? "Just ignore them!" Depressed? "Just decide to feel better!" In pain all the time? "Surely you're exaggerating." This is likely in defense of the fear each of us has of losing control—of our thoughts, our feelings, our very bodies.

While this fear may rationalize the segregation, imprisonment, and torture of the mentally ill throughout history, it does not excise the responsibility we bear regarding such treatment, especially its present persistence for profit. The origins, evolution, and current practices of "mad medicine" are the unsettling subjects in Robert Whitaker's Mad in America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill. 

Retrospect — Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

[Reviews from HexWhyZed are not in any way timely or culturally pertinent, just the impressions from a dimly-lit island in the distance and the flotsam jettisoned along its shores. They may also contain spoilers—you have been warned.]

For all of humanity's polarizing inclinations, we frequently fail to realize that others are Not Like Us—that they don't share our experiences or internal chemistry or preconceived notions, so when someone reacts to a situation in a way contrary to our presumptions of normalcy, suspicion often percolates before empathy.

This is the initial propulsion of Gone Girl, the story of a wife gone missing, her husband's inappropriate behavior as Sisyphean catastrophe, the internal realities we keep consistently to ourselves despite protestations of love and hate.