This has me on the verge of tears, and I am not sure if I will be able to stop if I break.

The Veteran's Affairs department as whole in the United States is striving up there as a spectacularly epic national embarrassment and shame. Veterans have to wait as much as 15+ months to hear whether or not they will receive treatment for their claim. There is a backlog of claims that is years long, and hundreds of thousands claims high. All this in gratitude for those who fight for our purported freedom... you know... if you still buy into that fairy tale. But still, the established promise we pay lip service to is that if you served in the military, you were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, and we as a nation are in your gratitude. So why are there as many if not more than 22 veterans per day committing suicide, and 53 veterans dying per day waiting for their claim to be processed? Why is it that some veterans will make the impossible choice of committing suicide? I have no personal connection to Mr. Young, but I am emotionally devastated, and beyond ashamed at the United States.

Imagine for a moment that at your workplace, every day, there were 75 people dying off every day. It doesn't have to be your workplace, it could be your neighborhood How would you cope?

I feel such an acute pain of the betrayal this embodies by people who lionize and extol the virtues of our military service members, send us to war and then ignore us. My faith in the purported values of the nation is shaken to it's core. There is no excuse for this, and no amount of remarkable success stories which can overshadow this. This is damning and verges on the unforgivable.

A Moment of Reflection

I was looking through old posts in terms of what were some of the goals of things I wanted to have in my life. I was pleasantly surprised that I am actually kind of subconsciously realized one such goal: Having a Salon Style Art Display. In the past year my bedroom walls have become filled with an array of various artworks acquired as well as decorative elements, and show posters I like have meandered and accumulated on my walls.

Today I went to an opening for another gallery show. I've been sort of a hermit, and art making should not happen in the echo chamber of my own environment. I always find inspiration with various art collectives when they have different shows. This Opening had two shows "From Motion to Stillness" and "Copy*Right?". Both shows were well thought out and worked very well within the conceptual framework of  the titles. While I was inspired, I did come away with a growing sense of my own artistic insecurities and the fact that I am not sure the work I make in my spare time would be worthy of display alongside these artists. I'll definitely need to consider what work I consider "done" and what I could revisit....

An Arbitrary Anniversary

Eight years ago, I was fighting the flue and had missed a drill weekend which was part of my commitment to my contract with the United States Army Reserves. I actually agonized over whether or not I would go to drill that weekend because while I was sick and feeling rather miserable, I also had a misguided sense of duty combined with a diminished sense of self-care. I ended up doing what could be considered the responsible thing and stayed home with my sickness. It was February 13, 2005; a Sunday morning. My supervising NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer) called my house asking to speak with me. She asked me how I was, and if I was recovering well, and if I was sitting down. I said I was, and she replied with "You're going to Baghdad". Whatever visceral emotional response I might have had, I will never know. Reflexively I was a clear minded professional calculating a thousand things which were contingent on my almost robotic reply: "What's my timeline?"

The next day was a series of phone calls, and e-mails to school. I was within a year of graduation of a series of classes which I had fought tooth and nail through a portfolio review to get into. It was imperative I knew I would have my place held or if I was going to have to resubmit my portfolio again. I had to notify work, and I had to let certain friends and family know I was leaving soon - really soon.

After a few farewells, and a few very encouraging metaphorical but well needed kicks in the ass, I was not sad when I was saying my farewells and good byes. I consequently found out I would have far more time than the "This Thursday" my NCO told me, as there was training I had to complete prior to heading overseas.

The deployment was a profoundly formative experience in my life, which I cannot say with any sort of confidence that I would be the person I am today were it not for that experience. There are people whom I would have never been put on a path to meet were it not for how my military service and actually deploying affected the way I think, and helped shape my values and beliefs. There are people like Marc-Anthony, or Cherie whom I would have never spoken too or been fortunate enough to befriend. The introduced me to Sacha Sacket, wonderful ideas, and unbridled kindness of strangers. A longer lasting kindness than the Bangor Troop Welcomers, who also are very deserving of my respect.I would have never met the other "nerdiest person in the batallion" Lysandwr, my deployment girlfriend! If I had not deployed to Baghdad I would not have taken an interest in foreign languages and cultures, nor would I have gotten involved with the Vet Art Project, and met Lisa, Jessa, Tim, and subsequently Aaron, Sabrina, Nicky, Vinny, Alejandro, Barry, Hans, or Iris. My friendship with Susheela would not have been as nurturing nor fulfilling. I would not make the kind of art which I am making now, nor would I explore the ideas and grapple with the issues which I grapple with now.

So today, I honor my eighth anniversary to my deployment to a war we should have never fought, but my involvement in has made me a more conscientiousness and engaged inhabitant of the world.