Motivation is the key

Thursday, Mar. 28, 2007, 11:14 p.m.

Wow. For lack of a less pornish term, you guys have seriously packed my inbox. If you know what I mean.

Thank you so so so so SO much for all of the addresses and offers to send me boxes of all things weird and wonderful. I can't imagine how you plan to top the incredible generosity (as well as the interesting, unique, and often frankly disturbing items) you showered upon me during the last deployment, but it seems as though you're willing to give it a shot. And I say: Woo hoo! I will be e-mailing you all back as soon as I get a few moments during which I am not compelled to pass the fuck out in my princess bed.

A couple of you asked about what kind of things I need out here -- the answer, honestly, is not much. As far as practical items go, I can get most of them at the store here on our camp except my favorite shampoo, which I can still probably order online from WalFart-dot-com or something, so I wouldn't ask anyone to buy it for me.

HOWEVER. I am guessing that the majority of you are in possession of the skill to 1) be very creative, and/or 2) bake things that will stay relatively fresh in Saran Wrap. Thus, having no idea what exactly to ask you lovelies for, I will leave it up to you. Because you are pretty goddamn awesome.

In the Army, there are several criteria used to measure the difference between a "good soldier" and a "bad soldier." A few, in no particular order, are:

Physical Fitness
This is a big deal. If a soldier is not physically fit, he can be excellent at his job, respectful to his superiors, a college graduate and a past Nobel Prize winner, but he will still be looked at as a slacker. It is possible to get kicked out of the Army for failing too many Physical Fitness Tests in a row.

Competence
It's usually a good idea for a soldier to try and be somewhat knowledgeable about his or her job. If competence is too much to ask, the soldier should at least know who the best person is to call and do the work for him. If the soldier can't be bothered to learn this information, he should probably just avoid doing any actual work at all cost. Being incompetent will usually not get you kicked out of the Army unless you endanger someone's life.

Attention to Detail/Faith in the System
If a soldier is good at memorizing things, following orders and never questioning his superiors' decisions, he will go far in the Army. If he is prone to fits of "logical" or "independent" thinking, he will likely go slightly out of his mind with frustration within a few months. Acquire enough mental frustration (and exhibit it correctly), and you just may get kicked out of the Army.

Motivation/Self-Confidence
If you seem as though you are good at your job and you act as though you are enjoying it, your true feelings are irrelevant, because you will feel the Army Love -- which brings me to the one major difference between Babymomma and me:

She loves the Army.

I'm sure I don't need to elaborate, but I'm going to because, well, I just can't help it.

The only thing that kept her from fully looking forward to this deployment was the whole "leaving her baby for a year or more" thing. That's it. She had never been here before, and she wanted to go, and now she's here and she truly likes it.

No manner of military retardity can bring her down. Looked at from one perspective, it's amazing. Looked at from my perspective, it makes me want to do and say very mean things. It would be kind of like the scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles where Steve Martin goes apeshit on John Candy because he's so obnoxiously optimistic -- except that in that movie, John Candy was only outwardly cheerful, while Babymomma is really not faking it at all (unless I am even worse at reading people than I am at creating sentences which do not go on and on forever).

She adopts all of the Army's manufactured motivational phrases ("HOOAH!" "ARMY STRONG!" etc.) and uses them in the ways they were intended to be; she rarely, if ever, avoids, complains about or refuses to carry out assigned missions that quite clearly make no sense; she is at least fifteen minutes early to work every day; and she is a Republican. A half-Mexican Republican, at that.

In other words, she is a Good Soldier. And dammit, she's making me look really bad by comparison.

At some point during the past few days, I decided I had two options. I could: 1) Continue being visibly annoyed and frustrated by the fact that I've somehow deployed with a crossbreed of Tigger and Mary fucking Poppins, or 2) Pump up my false motivation until there is no longer any discernible difference between the two of us.

Obviously, it's easier to be bitter. OBVIOUSLY. However, I think that if I try hard enough, I can harness most of my rage and channel it into this here online journal, where it really belongs. So a couple days ago, I let the games begin ...

There we were, sitting in our morning meeting with Sergeant Insane-o. I was sipping coffee and willing myself to not piss anybody off -- an impressive feat, for anyone who is me -- when Sergeant Insane-o announced that from now on, we are required to greet officers with our division's motto (slightly altered for Google-deterring purposes): "R0ck of the M@rne!"

Needless to say, I found this idea about as appealing as a truck stop shower drain, but I couldn't show that -- Sergeant Insane-o already thinks I'm on the brink of the precipice between apathy and insanity as far as military bearing is concerned, and since I have to spend the next fifteen or so months with him, I'd like to hold on to whatever semblance of brain-to-mouth control I may still have.

The only other thing to do was, well, play by their silly little rules.

"R0CK OF THE M@RNE!" I boom at any and every approaching officer.
"R0CK OF THE MOTHERFUCKING M@RNE!"*

"R0CK YOUR OWN M@RNE!" some of them bellow back cheerfully.

Babymomma says my "motivation" makes her want to hurt me, and once she's been broken, it's only a matter of time before the rest of them cave and this policy goes off into the Land of Useless, Failed Directives. You just watch, Mr. Bush -- I'll give you a "Mission Accomplished."

*for special occasions only

Lest you think that all I do is sit/stand/walk around and complain about the general state of things, I'd like to share one recent instance that led to me actually being productive.

In order for us to get Babymomma's television and radio broadcasts back to the States, we have to use a transmitter system shaped like the unassembled contents of four heavy boxes. We needed to set the system up on the roof of a short building right across from the one we work out of.

Normally, we would have just hauled the boxes up the stairs to the roof, but in this instance, the stairs were almost stable enough for a litter of kittens to sit on. One person could climb them at a time, but even that was testing fate. A new, more muscle-related solution was needed. Also, ratchet straps were needed. Observe ...

X

plus Y

equals Z:

That was me at the top of the stairs, and Babymomma at the bottom. And the ability to pull that off, my friends, is the stuff that motivation is made of.