Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Help WW gain supporters
Maggie
http://pol.moveon.org/giving2010/vote/index.html?id=25613-501327-NhQw5Cx&t=3
Sunday, November 28, 2010
letters in December
write me a letter
and I’ll be writing letters to you
write a friend
write someone in Warrior Writers
write a letter
write a letter every week
put a piece of paper in the mail
I’ll miss you but we’ll be staying connected through words
building bridges with words
i'm off to the PI, be in touch in 2011. take care of yourselves, and each other
happy hibernating...
Monday, November 15, 2010
Voices of Veterans Month
Doors open at 6 pm
The National Liberty Museum
321 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, PA.
Free Screening!
Stories from those who have served and the challenges they face when they come home. Following the screening, Mind TV will present a discussion with Marsha Four, Vietnam Vet.
Light refreshments will be served. Please RSVP to Eric efielder@mindtv.org
Warrior Writers is a partner in this event!!!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Do-Over
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Robocop: the Desensitizer
I must have watched Robocop over twenty times as a kid and the memories were nothing but cool. Well, we finished up a lively event the other night and were wide awake when we got back to the house, so we decided to watch a movie - one of less than five movies I've watched recreationally since the ride started.
Everything was fine and 80's, just as I remembered it, until the huge crime fighting robot showed up. Then I felt this deep fear bubble up to my chest, a fear I haven't felt in a while.
I knew what was going to happen next, I'd seen it many times. The robot mutilates the demonstrator with a fully automatic machine gun because of faulty programing; it was just following orders.
What I didn't anticipate was a spike in my heart rate and the overwhelming desire to leave the room. It took a lot of focus to sit there and force myself through what seemed like 10-15 seconds of someone being blown apart.
My heart was racing afterwards and eventually slowed. The ultra-violence continued throughout the movie and eventually we all started laughing at it; it was absurd.
The movie finally ended at three in the morning and I instantly fell asleep. The next day I constantly replayed Robocop and my reactions over and over in my head, trying to unravel the situation. I was amazed that as a child I watched this repeatedly without fully understanding the events. This reminded me of a young man that went to war repeatedly, just as ignorant as the child.
The most alarming thing to surface was the laughing. Once I made it past the first violent scene, everything was a little easier to watch - I had been desensitized.
My heart didn't race and I didn't feel the urge to leave. It turned into an absurd, borderline prophetic vision of the modern day - without the robotic technology, yet the robots are present. There was a commercial in the movie for a futuristic game of battleship, but played with nukes and the kid playing the game with his family spoke of fighting on the Pakistan border. This movie was made in 1987.
I often observed and participated in this behavior while serving in the military. We would laugh at terrible things to hide our pain, so we could call each other men.
As I reflected on my actions and feelings from the movie, I initially felt unmanly because of my visceral reaction to violence. I was almost in tears thinking about the boy inside of me watching this repeatedly, knowing what I know now.
That shame is the old cultural programing and it didn't take long for this to surface. I was reminded of the training that lead me to join the military, the cultural training that began before I volunteered for it.
Although it feels like Robocop has been haunting me, it's a very important reminder to myself: I have changed. I love the fact that this movie has effected me so deeply. On a personal level, it illustrates how real the healing process is, even though it usually goes unnoticed by the individual.
This is a solid reminder of how life isn't about constantly moving forward. Sometimes we have to take a couple of steps back to understand where we stand.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Cowboys and Indians
It took many years for me to go back and confront some of the deeper realizations of my experiences in Afghanistan. It took going to college so I could articulate my experiences and living in a very supportive community that listens.
Ultimately, I had to go back and face the facts: we, as a nation, are still erasing indigenous peoples and cultures to this day, in the name of freedom - and I had played a roll in this history of culture assassination. There is no difference between the erasing of the Lakota nation through framing them as 'terrorist' and the erasing of the simple society constructs in Afghanistan, in an attempt to transplant democracy.
I spoke with many afghans there and here in the states, and the general consensus is the tribe never asked for democracy; the tribe has it's own system of government.
Some people say that this is what I get for trying to rationalize an irrational situation, but to me it's much more. I now view my past warmongering as a mental health issue and think we as a nation are mentally ill.
It's not all doom and gloom though, behavioral disorders can be corrected if we'll just acknowledge our behavior. I did it on a personal level and I think as a nation, we can do the same.
As a child I was taught war games and I've played those games for most of my 28 year life. This is why I deeply value my 3 tours in Operation Enduring Freedom. As Sgt. George, I gained an understanding of life outside the box I was raised in.
Until recently, I was always the cowboy - but now, I will forever be the Indian.
Friday, November 5, 2010
poem I wrote today and Veteran's Day assignment
couldn't get the red bullets to go away
No, I'm not talking about the ones he had that were covered in his best friend's blood
which were given to him
they were to be used
they were to be used to kill those two men
Iraqi men
in Najaf
who were sitting next to each other
on the ground
along the side of a building
At least, that's how I remember picturing it in my mind
when he told me about it
I'm trying to remember if he told me in the sun of the day-time
or if this was a night-time story, told in the dark
Yes, I think it was
and now I'm wondering if it happened in the daylight or nightdark
did he aim his sights
on these men
in daylight
or moonlight
See, these are things you get hung up on when you consider giant crazy things like this
because the rest is so overwhelming
I wonder, what it feels like to carry that
how often he remembers it
where does he remember it in his body
his trigger finger
his shoulder
maybe at the smell of
or at the sight of
his triggers I can only imagine
I wonder, if any of ours are the same
Likely not since mine include strange things like bathroom doors, quarters and orange slices
while his may include
loud sounds like fire-crackers or trash on the side of the road
try to imagine fearing that trash on the side of the road could blow up on you and kill you
and your friend
I can’t necessarily feel that in my bones like they do, but one thing I can do is listen
----------
Writing Exercise
If you could get someone to listen to you, what would you say today, on "Veteran's Day?" That someone can be a certain someone or a kind of someone, the president or your mother, a soul you never met or a liar you wish you hadn't. So, imagine they're ears are ready, to listen...
(of course utilizing video, photography, drawing, music, etc. is exciting and encouraged. post in whatever forms and in as many as you want)
LC
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Cinquain for Fear
Alert, Unsure
Fighting, Fleeing, Freezing
Loopy stomach, Rising panic
Phobic
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Intrusive Thoughts exhibit in Chicago, Veterans Day - pls send submissions
I was/am gonna submit works from the website but I figured I would put a call out to see if anyone wanted to submit anything and I can add it to the mix. It can be writing or visual arts. Please send it to me directly (and post it on the blog).
So yeah, the title is self explanatory...I think a lot of things could fit into this...
Also, these are the questions we'll need to answer to put with our collection of works. If anyone wants to answer them and post them here or send them to me, feel free. I would love to have this stuff by tomorrow, Wednesday if possible. Sorry such late notice. I'm working on trying to ask for help/assistance/participation more often...but also not sure how/when/what people are able to give.
Artist statement in relation to the theme "Intrusive Thoughts"
"Why does our generation of veteran art need to be shown?"
much love,
LC
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Exercise your form
fear and loathing
The day I arrived to Cadillac, I got a scare that stuck with me, slithering under my skin till I left town. I was at Meijer with my brother, we had just gotten in the door and for a second, it looked like he saw someone he recognized. But he did not say anything or walk over to anyone, we kept moving. The Meijer in Cadillac is like many small town stores and if you go there, there's no question that you'll see someone you know, if not a few people. The question lingers...who will it be? Oftentimes the conundrum is whether or not you stop and talk, and for how long. Or, do you avoid them altogether?
When I thought my brother saw someone and went the other way, my skin turned to sand and I was filled with fear, anger and grief. It occurred to me that it could happen. That it was possible that I would see him. I might run into the disaster that shattered me. He could be standing in that store and I would have to look at him.
What would I do?
Thank the goddesses he was not there, or at least that I did not see him. But now I'm wondering how I've gotten by these past few years not running into him and it makes me scared about going back. I'm taking a risk every time I go home, every time I go to the store, every time I walk down the street. And I'm also standing up for my life. I am determined to make the choices I want and to spend time with the rest of my family. He will not take any more from me than he already has. I will continue to battle my fears and face them with courage and strength.
LC
Thursday, September 16, 2010
What are your comfort items???
My comfort items are first and foremost: a comfortable environment. Without this, it's hard for me to function. I also look for comfort in coffee and the sweet lovins from all my pooches. A hair cut can be comforting, counseling is comforting, and reading is when I'm at my calmest. I love to read, then get inspired to write as well. The love and support of my family and friends is definitely comforting for myself. And sometimes, good ol fashioned outreach to other members can make me feel awesome!!! It's nice to know I have a second family in a sense, to help me and for us to be there for each other just the same. Thank you Lovella for creating safe spaces for us and allowing us to just get some things off our chest when a comforting workshop rolls around.
For this weeks writing prompt, we would like to know what comforts you????
Monday, September 13, 2010
America: You Gotta Have Our Back
As veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, we have watched with increasing alarm the rise of anti-Islamic rhetoric within the U.S. We've seen attacks on Muslim citizens, intolerance toward religious expression, and even threats of book burning. All this goes against the values we risked our lives to protect.
Story continues below
We have served beside Muslim soldiers, Marines, sailors, and airmen, as well Muslim translators, who risked their own lives and the lives of their families to help us. For the servicemembers currently deployed, the success of their mission and the safety of their lives depends on a basic respect for, and interaction with, Islamic culture.
Those who would vilify and target Muslims on grounds of their religious belief not only show a deep disrespect for American values, but put American lives at risk. It's easy to burn a Koran when you won't feel the heat.
We speak as infantrymen, truck drivers, medics, artillerymen, supply sergeants, and civil and public affairs officers, professions whose success depends on good relations with a deeply religious Muslim population. That population sees the American flag we wear on our uniform and judges us, not only by our actions but on the values our citizens uphold. We must be able to point back home to the values we represent. Chief among those values is our courage as a nation to peacefully and openly engage with differences of culture and religion.
What is a squad leader in Kandahar supposed to say to an Afghan woman who asks him why we want to burn her holy book?
When citizens here participate in hateful rhetoric and intolerance toward Muslims, it leaves soldiers over there exposed.
America, you gotta have our back.
Roy Scranton, US Army Artillery, Iraq
Philip Klay, USMC Public Affairs Officer, Iraq
Perry O'Brien, US Army Medic (Airborne), Afghanistan
James Redden Jr., USAR Journalist, Iraq
Joshua Casteel, US Army Linguist, Iraq
Logan Mehl-Laituri, US Army Forward Observer, Iraq
Hart Viges, Army, Infantry (Airborne), Iraq
Jason M Wallace, US Air Force Maintenance, Kuwait
Chantelle Bateman, USMC Supply, Iraq
Geoffrey Millard, US Army Infantry, Iraq
Nicholas Przybyla, US Navy Cameraman, Pakistan Coast
John McClelland, US Army Medic (Ranger), Afghanistan and Iraq
Andrew Johnson, US Army Radar Technician, Iraq
Daniel Paulsen, US Army Medic (Airborne), Afghanistan
Fernando Braga, US Army Supply, Iraq
Maggie Martin, US Army Signal, Iraq
Adam Kokesh, USMC Civil Affairs, Iraq
Lisa Zepeda, US Army Lab Technician, Iraq
Brian Turner, US Army Infantry, Iraq
Matt Gallagher, US Army Cavalry Officer, Iraq
Michael Anthony Ruehrwein, US Army OR Tech, Iraq
Erika Sjolander, US Army Supply, Iraq
Bryan Reinholdt, US Army Apache Maintenance, Iraq
Jason Chambers, US Air Force Air Freight Specialist, Iraq
Joe Wheeler, US Army Surgical Assistant, Iraq
Ash Woolson, US Army Combat Engineer, Iraq
Chris Hellie, US Army Cavalry Officer, Iraq
Sara Beining, US Army Intelligence Analyst, Iraq
Helen Gerhardt, US Army Transport, Iraq
Garett Reppenhagen, US Army Cavalry Scout, Iraq
Thursday, September 9, 2010
this is the sound of a dropping bomb
today I'm cynical. Here we go.
love is a something darkly khaki
this sounds like the tv on in the background
love smells like leftover pizza and dish soap
this tastes like kamikazes and pbr coming up my throat
looking like smeared make up the morning after i can't remember
feeling like shit
on the other hand
love can be purple
an indie band
a baby fresh from the bath
fruit smoothies
and mountain-scapes in the distance
feeling like its worth it
More War and the City
Also, though I've been blissfully ignorant of the news the last two weeks, thanks to being off the grid, I couldn't miss "US soldiers 'killed Afghan civilians for sport and collected fingers as trophies'" and "Obama Declares an End to Combat Mission in Iraq."
Time to celebrate, I guess.
(x-posted to caribou)
Meditation and War and the City
Also, when I came back to the city, I found that the first part of my piece "War and the City" had been published in the New York Times vets blog. Very exciting. Check it out.
(x-posted at caribou)
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Drowned
mumbling and gurgling between a clash of blue and grey
carrying with it the stench of dead fish
in a wave of salty sea water
that is as transparent as it is deep.
Guilt, like the weight of a thousand oceans.
This emotion/sensory poem is in response to the following exercise:
1st line: Name a feeling/emotion, finish the line with a color word
2nd: Tell what it sounds like
3rd: Tell what it smells like
4th: Tell what it tastes like
5th: Tell what it looks like
6th: Tell what it feels like
Writing Exercise: emotions/sensory poem
1st line: Name a feeling/emotion, finish the line with a color word
2nd: Tell what it sounds like
3rd: Tell what it smells like
4th: Tell what it tastes like
5th: Tell what it looks like
6th: Tell what it feels like
Here is the one I wrote as an example
grief is black
it sounds like tears, hysteria
smells like hospitals
it tastes like the stinging blood on a bitten tongue
it looks like a room full of caskets
and it feels, like suffocation
Much Love,
LC
P.S. I didn't make this one up, and I don't know who did.
Something new I'm toying with
it carried 30 pounds.
It was a keeper of lifesaving tools.
Gauze, tape, sodium chloride
and tubing for the infusion of such.
Needles and band-aids,
even some tabs.
You know--
the ibuprofen type.
The Army considers it a cure-all.
Hand it out like candy.
Every day is like Halloween!
Don't worry about a thing, especially not your liver
being worth a damn by the time you're forty.
Tons of gloves,
my one pet peeve.
I would go without on certain scenes,
but that's just me...
I always wanted to be
a helper of those,
too scared to be free.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
War News Radio
http://www.warnewsradio.org/2008/08/19/warrior-writers/
October Jamboree Workshop
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Morning Ramblings...work in progress
When did my tears dry up like wells in the desert heat,
Like sleeping volcanos afraid of the destruction they would spew forth on their countrymen should they choose to live,
Like the desert cough that comes from an angry night only wanting the rains to fall and make earth give fruit.
When did I lost the capacity to cry?
When did my strength become a wall over which you could only wave a flag to indicate your love,
Where a mother's hug is shielded in a layer of kevlar and grit
Where a brother's send-off is masked in a feast of gluttony and fear
When sleep is only a rock and a pill away
near the rusted metal and debris that serves as blankets for my shadow.
When did I lose the capacity to be?
Like a sculpture asked only to resemble
to endure,
to represent.
When did I lose?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Something I just found in my notebook from a retreat
nothing cohesive.
You are strong!
my life
unraveling.
Couldn't lose it-
their lives depended on me-only me
if they wanted to live.
Countless wounds...
some big, some fleshy, gaping holes--
some where they looked like we
were trying to kill
his soul...
Comments/suggestions always welcome!!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Publishing Opp
Friday, July 30, 2010
Writing Workshop in Brooklyn
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Awesome opportunity to be published!!!
Roy Scranton
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS
Do you write fiction? Did you serve in Iraq or Afghanistan?
We are Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans looking for short stories
(1500-7000 words) by other military veterans who served in Iraq and/or
Afghanistan. We seek high quality, literary fiction that touches in
some way on military or wartime experience, either downrange or back
home, for an anthology of veterans’ writing. National Book
Award-winner Colum McCann will be editing. Please send your story as a
word document or pdf to gwotstories@gmail.com, along with a brief bio
specifying your publishing credits and military service, by August 15,
2010. We seek original stories or reprints (if you own rights).
gwotstories@gmail.com
Monday, July 19, 2010
American Soldier
A poem about what it means to be an American Soldier.
American Soldier
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I'm not shouting I'm better than you,
I'm whispering, I was a boy, and now
find myself a man.
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I don't speak only of this with pride
I'm also confessing that I stumble,
make mistakes,
And need competent leadership to
help guide me,
So I in turn,
can be a competent leader
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I'm not trying to be strong,
I'm professing that I am weak, and
need the strength of my peers and
country,
to help carry me on.
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I'm not bragging of past successes,
I'm admitting I have failed in the past,
admitted the mistakes,
and tried to right the wrongs.
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible,
But my country needs me,
and I soldier on.
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I can still feel the sting of pain,
from seeing those that I care about die,
While we fight for those that we love.
I have my share of heartaches,
So I call upon the American People
To help guide our soldiers, when home.
When I say... "I am an American Soldier"
I'm not saying anything,
I'm just a simple man,
Who was called upon by his country,
to fight.
By: Michael Anthony, Author of: Mass Casualties: A Young Medic's True Story of Death, Deception, and Dishonor in Iraq. Available at your local bookstores, or online at: www.MassCasualties.com
(Originally inspired by a Carol Wimmer poem. )
Saturday, July 17, 2010
REhumanization
I am also indebted to Drew Cameron, Drew Matott, and Chris Arendt at the Combat Paper Project: www.combatpaper.org
I created this piece using what I prefer to call Service Paper since I am not a combat veteran. I used one of my old military uniforms to make the paper, then I hand-cut it using an Xacto knife.
I spent 12 years wearing a military uniform and feel that most of that time was spent learning how to kill and hate other people for reasons I am still struggling to understand. Throughout this process of dehumanization of the "enemy," I think I also learned to dehumanize myself. This piece is an attempt to begin the process of returning, not only from the place in myself that said it was OK to view others as less than human, but from the place in myself that said I was OK with doing that. Having dehumanized myself and others, I am now trying to rehumanize myself and others.
With that in mind, I chose to use the simplest expression of love I could think of and repeat it, in my own handwriting, across 12 lines on a sheet of paper. Each line represents one year of military service. I want people who view the piece to see themselves reflected in the mirror, so they will know that I am speaking directly to them, and also to have an image of themselves in front of them as they read the words, "I love you" over and over and realize that they are worthy of their own love.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Part 2 of "So much to say"
dark deep colors
no smiles to be seen.
It was scary,
at least to me.
Things have to get better...
from black to grey--
green
is next.
This is like a mini-series of well, love poems actually. But not happy, sappy poems--truth in writing from within...hope you all can pull from an experience and write a small collection of the type--chap book could be an awesome project for any writer!!!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
So much to say........
One of these days, we shave--
an evil fat clown watches...
and hearts are sad.
Walking, walking, questioning how
people seem so interested,
bound.
By what this place has to
offer. Laughter has a lot of heavy
footed that, brings a whole new hour
will allow for nothing correct--fun and free.
Never knowing just how much on the nights
you always get the most sleep.
Freedom, justice for all.
Thought coming here might need to borrow
time to just sit...
and one to say it all.
Monday, July 12, 2010
ARV Proposed Title
So far, Pete has proposed "Coming Home".
We'd like to get a few more suggestions and then choose one. If you don't have a suggestion but would like to second Pete's, respond with that too. We will be finalizing this by midnight tonight and I will submit the proposal first thing tomorrow morning.
Any folks not in the area that would still like to contribute, please contact Pete--(I'm sure he won't mind :)Then we will be on the road to creating an inspiring installation of Art in Response to Violence--and that will be a rewarding journey!
Semper Fidelis.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Brothers
Brothers
We step off the train in our most
Convincing we’re-doing-just-fine disguise with
The cinder-block feet of men whose spirits are
Heavy under the artificiality of
Our swagger and the damp light and
The same greasy grit of guilt and shame
That covers the subway walls
Lost in our heads on parallel staircases
The corners of our eyes issue challenges to
Our legs as we race skyward
Away from such a thick black dust
We return for a moment, our
Chests out and craned necks,
Laughing into the sunshine of our youth
Friday, July 9, 2010
Shout-Outs!!!!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Withdrawaling...
dark, deep colors
no smiles
to be seen.
Scary, at least to me.
"This has got to get bettter....."
From black to gray, green is next........
Friday, June 25, 2010
William Joiner Recap
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Ghosts
Saturday, June 19, 2010
familiar taste
Thousands of years of culture-
one struggle after another-
a different way of life.
Taste
Bringing back a flood of memories-
my senses alive-
my heart raw with exposure.
Taste
The bitter biting flood of remorse;
remembering how wrong I was.
Taste
My salty tears as she replies, "I thank God for everything".
The sentiment is familiar.
Hey all, I'm here in Chicago with some great brothers and sisters. I want to take this back and work on it but I thought I'd share it in it's freshness. This was inspired by a dinner prepared for us by an amazing Iraqi woman. Much love people. Holla if you hear me and if you hear me write and share. We need this community.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Memorial Day
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Scratch that, scratch that. I write with hopes of telling you tiny pieces of truth that are, yes, truth, but they are as truthful as a birdhouse hanging in a hardware store tells the truth about the nests the swallowtail will build for it's young in the wild.
I give you constructions, truths and emotions that I'm comfortable letting you in, sharing the not-so-secret "secret" of generic, shared human emotion. It wasn't hard for me to miss it, what I was doing... after all, it would have taken a very truthful look deep within me to see that bigger nugget of truth, the one that was afraid to let a single soul catch a glimpse, let alone my own introspective one, let alone a probing stare.
After all, what if someone should happen to see me, and not care for it at all? My lifelong terror, my lifelong headlong hurdling tripping stumbling careening RUN away from getting to know myself in order to ensure that no one else could either, and find me lacking, certainly didn't begin as any sort of protective measure against pain from the military and Iraq.
Oh, but how convenient a run that is when you find yourself with people all struggling with healing, all finding different ways to let it out and let it go, and me? Simply so well versed in the honest lie that I didn't realize I wasn't letting anything go.
The cracks have been showing their asses though, friends, they surely have. It slips, in conversation, i get angry, i get passionate, and after I say my piece and slip back into caring, lets make sure everyone feels loved and we all support each other and get along, I'm surprised at myself. I don't know where my anger or my feelings or words or any of it came from, I'm just... astonished.
Its as if lately my soul has been escaping and covering my eyes while it did a dance for strangers and then running back inside to recover.
Something tonight, however, has made me think harder and I'm fine with it. I need to relearn how to embrace my teenage angst in an adult context. High romance and torturous sorrow, check... end of the world, it is not, and there's the verging on adulthood portion of the roller coaster for you.
How does one stop pretending they are letting themselves experience this torturous and beautiful dive bar we live in on this one life we get and find that dividing line between pretending and experiencing?
How do I stop referring to myself like I'm just pondering questions out loud, referring to myself as "one this or that" instead of admitting that it is I, Me, Myself, the Person I Am, the One to Do the Things I Do...
"There's no poetry between us"
Said the paper to the pen
"And I get nothing for my trouble
But the ink beneath my skin"
If your clothes are getting weary
And your soul's gone out of style
Blame the miracle mile
And the bottom of the ladder
Paint your eyes and hide the tatters
What's the matter baby?
...I'm coming too
by gary jules. called "no poetry".
I used to write, a lot. constantly. I recently heard this song and it hit home, and that's when I started wondering where my poetry had gone.
It must have been when I stopped listening to my own heart to worry about your heartbeat, and your smile, and your ideas and your wants and needs... all of that wasn't me.
Lets go back now, just me and me, and figure it out again.
On second thought, maybe I could do it right and "everyone" can come. Perhaps there's more than just me out there that tries to write or draw or let it all out and something just doesn't seem to be clicking; as it happens, no one can take the trash out if the trash is hidden somewhere they can't get at it. I can't eat ice cream I put in the neighbors house either.
Late nights, random thoughts... time to start some things and roll.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Memorial Day
Memorial Day
The names on the wall tell and the fountains
In the pool show who and how many died
I sit there sometimes thinking about my brothers and sisters
Young, dumb, proud, angry, scared, guilty just like me
I think of the people who are never represented at all
And of myself and sad that innocence can’t be etched into a wall
I’m there thinking and sitting and sad as a man jogs past
And a laughing young couple stops and the woman poses for a picture
A pigeon bathes in the pool of the dead listed on the wall and
I’m sitting and thinking and mad that
There is no respect for the sanctity of this place or the
Pain and sorrow and anger and guilt and fear to which it was built
I’m thinking and sitting and sad and mad when
I recognize the timbre of the voices falling into the pool
As that of all who were lost. They speak to me. “The sanctity of
This place exists not in the death it represents. Anger not that
Birds drink of our water or children run squealing across our plaza.
Life happens here. This is all we have ever wanted. Let life live.”
Friday, May 28, 2010
BLOG BLOG BLOG
I'll share a personal story about the first and only time anyone mentioned PTSD to me--as in, they thought I had it. And I do, but this was not too long after returning from the deployment. This was when I thought it was fake and made up, and of course I didn't have it!
It was my grandmother, she's been a nurse for over 40 years now, still works, and lost my grandfather over 20 years ago. She's so strong and independent, and has been a close friend to me. G-ma knew everything. She'd seen it all and then some. Her best friend is a vietnam vet, suffering very badly and progressing quickly from agent orange. He can no longer speak, and she thinks he's not even able to write any more. And of course he can't walk.
So, here I sit, in almost full blown ptsd mode, and I am happy to say that I'm able to recognize my situation, and that I need some help along the way. Which I have been for almost 2 months now. Every day is a struggle, just not always a big struggle. Enjoy and cherish your "good" days!!!
Peace, love, & light
AS
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Something to lighten the mood during this time of memories and remembrance
The story is that a volunteer firefighter with his 3rd arson count. So you just go with it in whatever direction you want for 5 minutes. This is some ironic, slightly sarcastic humor.
It's exciting for me,
a love I've never known.
Been doing it for years--
ever since I've been grown.
The red and orange
that lights the sky.
The heat it emmitts,
brings a tear to my eye.
I'm a volunteer firefighter,
with a secret to hide.
One that nobody knows,
I keep it deep inside.
My job is to fight fires,
sometimes saving lives.
All I have to do
is get that blaze to die.
Yet here I sit,
with my one true desire.
Light, light, light it up,
I love to start fires.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Remembrance
Friday, May 21, 2010
Memorial Pages to be released on WW website: please write/send love for those who have gone by May 26
makes me think of
Doug Barber
Samantha Ewing
Tim Swanson
Jonny Millantz
…
These pages are dedicated in to the following friends
Our following friends
Who live on inside us, in our words, in our memories
with everlasting Love
----------------
Please send the following to us by MAY 26 - Warrior Writers Wednesdays - warriorwriters@gmail.com
1. Photo(s) (hopefully)
2. DOB
3. Date of passing
4. Writing (for, by, about them)
Thursday, May 20, 2010
It’s sinking in
I’m in a country called Iraq
Not to visit, or vacation
I am living here in Iraq
Not just for a summer or a month
I’m here for a year in Iraq
My birthday will be spent here
My Anniversary will be celebrated here
Halloween, Thanksgiving,
Christmas and New Years
All will be celebrated in Iraq
A whole year I won’t ever get back
I’m not going to say it was wasted
There is something always to be done
There is something always learned
On the radio there are reports of killing
In the sky sound the loud thunders of helicopters
Outside the office the sun awaits to melt you
Seven days a week this place rapes me of
Always trying to get more from me
Helpless to those back home is what I feel
Everyday is a routine to this shit
Life in this army will tear you apart
Your mind, body and soul
No one back home will ever truly understand
It’s okay though they don’t need to
It’s my reality and it’s sinking in
~Dan Conerd~
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Wilderness and Solitude
Here's what I wrote:
I'm not searching for solitude
just silence sometimes
I wonder if I can find myself
in the hustle and the rushing
If I sat down on the couch
and really looked at myself
peered down into my hands
what would the lines read
what do I really want and need?
Even in the slices of silence
there's all the chatter inside
and I just can't slow me down
and in trees and mountains
I search, never sitting still
for more than a moment
I"m only full of wonder
for what I really want from
solitude and wilderness
what I might answer
to these never-ending questions
there is so much life outside
and inside
yet, we remain focused
and together
and I'm deeply grateful
Lovella Calica (civilian, project founder)
NYC May Day events and performance!
10 AM-3 PM: Wellness opportunities (Acupuncture, Massage, Reiki, etc.) at the Brooklyn Vet Center
11 AM-1 PM: Brunch/Lunch/Potluck with the community (invite your pals)
1-3 PM: Writing Workshop for Veterans at the Brooklyn Vet Center
4-6 PM: NYU’s Veterans Writing Workshop Reading at NYU’s Creative Writers House
58 West 10th Street (between 5th and 6th Avenues)
7-11 PM: Warrior Writers Performance fundraiser in Williamsburg
7 Dunham Place, 4N , Brooklyn, NY 11211 – rsvp: sarah@rabbitmafia.com
Rabbit Mafia invites you to celebrate the artistic voices of Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) with
a night of music, art and spoken word. Expect the unexpected with readings by veterans via Warrior Writers and an installation of works by Combat Paper.
Cocktails and appetizers will be provided by Rabbit Mafia, with recent ICE (Institute for Culinary Education) graduate and veteran Steve Mortillo.
$5 suggested donation / Artwork and books for sale
Friday, April 23, 2010
spring ahead...usin our imaginations...
I imagine...
an editing collective...
a giant exhibit of veterans visual artwork...
jam sessions, singing and making songs...
Warrior Writers Summer Retreat – West Coast – 1st week of August, 1-8...
Warrior Writers Shwag (t-shirts, stickers, pins)...
Warrior Writers Fundraisers this summer – for the retreat...
Veterans writing in all kinds of magazines and newsletters and journals...
get in touch with each other/us/you/we/they/all...we gonna make it happen!
lets do it!!!
Friday, April 16, 2010
These Boots
These boots were never comfortable
and they always meant work.
I must have been crazy to want a pair
so desperately.
Little did I know-
they would change my life forever.
I loved my boots though.
Took great pride in the fabulous shine.
Tramped all over South Korea.
That sure was a good time,
yet lots of training-I was glad to leave
behind.
They've been everywhere man.
Georgia was the next stop.
These boots.
These boots are tan;
stained with the sandy dirt, sewage, and blood.
Not my blood.
That sentence makes me smile.
Not a smile energized with happiness,
rather gratefulness-for it wasn't me.
These boots have walked upon the Holy Land.
But I couldn't find anything holy about it.
These boots have become a part of me.
I have grown comfortable in these boots,
and they comfort me.
These boots carry me from place to place.
These boots have a story.
One they'll never tell.
AS
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Thoughts from Philly Retreat
Standing on my box
looking at my enemy
smash the mirror please
Energy passes
from one of us to the next
as if one big breath
Love is warm and kind
thinking of you all the time
your hand rests in mine
Thanks for the healing
you have put my mind at ease
calming my bad energy
Tired of this war
tired of this fight for oil
must rally for PEACE
Monday, April 5, 2010
Help Wanted
yet highly stereotyped.
Typically loud, but keeps
secret better than anyone.
A foggy window,
yet an open book.
Independently,
lonely at times.
Friday, April 2, 2010
March Madness
I have found strength within the good friends I surrounded myself with and have gotten myself the help I need to continue healing. I will definitely be posting this month.......stay tuned for future blogs! LOL
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Myth Makers
The myth makers do their work in the bright light of day like
Thieves creeping about in the darkness of our development
To rob us of our ability to question and
They show up in schools and cartoons and books and on waves that fly invisibly
Across the air and into our skin to tell us
Things that eventually make us want to kill
The myth makers stand us in groups as 6-year-old children
Who don’t know what “allegiance” means and make us pledge it
To a flag worthy and deserving of a proper burial while telling us
Our human classmates sometimes deserve a good punch in the nose
Instead of being taught
The myth makers are sure there is never enough time in the school year
To learn about our fathers’ war in Vietnam and
Only half the story of our grandfathers’ war in Europe and Japan
And not about the screams and why our fathers never want to talk
About their war in Vietnam and our grandfathers remain
Silent on their war in Europe and Japan
I wish I had listened more closely to my silent grandfather
Monday, March 22, 2010
some things never change, you know.
"7 years.
broken engagement,
basic training,
marriage,
baby,
pending divorce,
heart ache upon heart ache upon heart ache
it is so hard
to put 7 years into a thought let
alone these 24 and some change..."
Thoughts spill from my head with no degree of coherency. Lately I can't remember things I just said, what I am supposed to do, or what I am doing. Anger seems to come easy, though -- anger and pain. Anger at...
Lies from politicians.
Accepting to live in a framework of these lies by my fellow Americans.
The Orphans in the middle-east thanks to work we have done.
The occupation of Palestine,
how we support Israel's genocide.
Anger at my failed marriage,
Anger at being a single mom now,
Anger at making certain choices (but no regret) and
Anger at being forced into making certain choices.
Pain?
Residual.
Residue.
I went to Basic Training in 2004 for my own selfish reasons, not because i even bought into the "reasoning" for the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. I just didn't care.
I care now.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Reflecting on seven years.
Friday, March 19, 2010
It's ok because we were young and in love and we survived Iraq so why couldn't we have beat these odds.
to feel and say and think, so
much to accomplish to be
so able to hold my head up that I
cry because I know you won't be there and that I
have failed in a way because we have
failed
so much.
So much of this I can say I
don't think so much of this is
my fault but every decision I make
is
my choice and I know so much of this
path we are on is because we both put
so many feet in front of the other and
walked
so much.
So some days now are much too much to
be alone in and some days are much to
good to not share with you but so much
now I realize I held on to much of just
the idea of you and I and the idea of
doing everything "perfect" but, it doesn't work
like that,
so much.
no, not so much.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
This is my Weapon, This is my Gun, This is my Daughter, So we Keep Moving On...
I wasn't able to attend the Warrior Writers retreat earlier this year due to various obligations and I haven't posted on here for a while, so I thought I'd choose a topic from the retreat and slowly get back into posting on here. This is the topic:
What was your relationship to your weapon? Did you love it, hate it, feel safer with it? feel scary with it? Did you use it as a hat rack, as a weapon, as a security blanket. Was it an M-16, SAW, 9-mil? or what??
Tell us about you and your weapon. What kind of weapons do you use now
In Field exercises the M-16 went into my sleeping bag with me and I cuddled with it because it was all i had. I'm not sure why but a fire arm has always made me feel safe. I was in jROTC in high school and shot bolt action .22s competitively, so that led to familiarity. Familiarity is interesting -- with my weapon, it didn't lead to contempt. It didn't lead to loving it, or hating it. No hat rack M-16, no neglected dust gatherer, either. No superior performance with it, no poor performance -- always in the middle.
It didn't make me feel tougher, either.
I always wanted to carry a handgun. I read a lot of true crime, I what the news and read the police blotter, and I know that those self-defense classes at the Y aren't really going to help me overcome someone who surprises me and is bigger and stronger than I. I always wanted to be able to defend myself with any necessary means.
I'm a survivor, and a weapon, an M-16 that I lugged around Iraq with me and never once fired, was just another thing I had.
I've been out for several years now, and I've gone back and forth on the issue of purchasing a handgun or putting together a rifle or purchasing a shotgun, even. It is really not foremost in my mind now. I have a daughter. I'm getting a divorce. I'm a full-time student with barely a part time job. I'm 24 and just moved back in with my parents. The positive side? Rent free, among other things. Reconnecting with my family after so many years being gone and missing so much of my little brother's lives (they were all grown up by the time I got out of the army, practically).
My current weapon? My weapons...? My mind, my heart, my soul, my cliches. The power I hold in my feminine amazonian spirit, the love of my daughter, the width of my hips and depth of my heart.
My goals that I mold and move forward on. My intelligence which is not diminished by my gender, my age, or my poverty. My semi-ability to appreciate good and bad situations for the experiential living they provide instead of wallowing in the bitterness they suggest. My weapons are not of flesh and blood but of passion and strength. The M-16 I sleep with now is comfort in the knowledge that I will always carry on.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
My Fun-a-days
Peace
Inspired and refreshed
My family teaches me well
Strength to stay in it
Lovella
Small but mighty love
You're bringing us together
Rest from job well done
Amber
New ideas fly round
We are action potential
One step at a time
JT
Trying to know you
I saw darkness through your eyes
Now warmth radiates
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
3 haiku for you
Monday, March 1, 2010
reflections on our retreat
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Letter. Sat. pm exercise 2
-To yourself ten years from now.
-To yourself before you joined the military.
-To your family as if you were still in or deployed.
-To an Iraqi or Afghan
-To anyone you want.
Post your letter or something that came from it.
Post post post.
How / Why I joined the Military Sat. pm exercise 1
Free-write for five minutes.
Post your free-write or something that came from it.
Write and post!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Me and my Weapon. Friday am exercise 2
What was your relationship to your weapon? Did you love it, hate it, feel safer with it? feel scary with it? Did you use it as a hatrack, as a weapon, as a security blanket. Was it an M-16, SAW, 9-mil? or what?
Tell us about you and your weapon. What kind of weapons do you use now?
The most rediculous thing I had to do. Firday am exercise 1
Enjoy, write, post.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Lost or Stolen friday pm exersize 2
Free-write for five minutes, don't stop, don't get caught up.
Post your free-write or something that came out of it. What surprised you? What struck a chord?
Write and share.
Sensual Discription friday pm session exercise 1
Check out Garett Rapenhagen's "Dirt" in Re-making sense or on warriorwriters.org
Post your free writing, thoughts, or finished work. Let other people know what you like about theirs.
Write Write Write. Post Post Post.
Warrior Writers, Participate in Philly Retreat No Matter Where You are.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Saying Hello...
Friday, February 5, 2010
In the spirit of "let's get acquainted"...
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Hey Everyone!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Lets get aquainted
Friday, January 22, 2010
Fear of The Unknown
soggy cargo pocket-
like the rain that's
drenching your boots.
You try to shake it as
if it's a fly on your foot-
but it only makes you feel
colder.
You press your hand
against the warm clay door-
it vibrates-as if
to say: don't enter-
they're here.
And the moment comes
when you slam into it.
Knees weak with it,
a tiny drop falls
giving you just enough-
to raise your weapon
and take perfect aim-
for there is no more.