Parkinson’s Law in action
I recently wrote about Parkinson’s Law, which essentially states that the time it takes to accomplish any job expands to fill the time allotted to do so. In other words, short deadlines increase the density of the work/time relationship. Yesterday and today I’ve experience Parkinson’s Law in full. My family and I are soon moving to my new Army assignment post in New York State. We received a call yesterday that the moving company would be here today, even though I had requested they show up on the 17th. We essentially had nothing packed. Though the transport company does most of the work, there are still standards that need to be met before they’ll move stuff out.
And yet in about one day we managed to weed out everything we wanted to throw away and neatly stacked everything we owed for the movers.
Pressure makes diamonds. Low expectations give us the Occupy Wall Street protesters.
Goals
If you don’t know where you’re going, any path will take you there. ~Attributed to General David Pataeus, in the book: Obama’s Wars.
One thing that I’ve found in the military is the importance of setting goals. It’s very easy to maintain some hazy vision of what we want, but never really considering what those visions really mean or what the steps will be to ge there.
The Army makes it fairly easy to set goals because the requirements for getting promoted in the enlisted ranks are clearly outlined. It’s a points based system and all a soldier has to do is see where he has the fewest points, be they civilain education, physical fitness, rifle, and address that area.
Of course we cannot always meet our goals. Still we need them, as they pull us up from our proverbial couch and get us to better ourselves. Last year I set a goal of being accepted by ODA (Operational Detachment Alpha–US Special Forces). I had to undergo the most extensive physical screening I’ve ever experience; 6 vials of blood removed, leaving me dizzy as I walked out the door of the doctor’s office. Chest X-rays, electro-cardiograms, urine samples.
A few weeks later, the doctor’s office notified me that there was a problem with my urine sample. The doc wanted me to come in for some follow-ups. Apparently I had more blood in my urine than the avergae person. They took another sample to ensure that the first was no fluke. It wasn’t. I have 5 times the amount of blood in my urine as the average person. The doctor told me that she’d have to suspend my process for ODA until they could figure out what was going on, or at least rule out cancer. I went to Landstuhl Hospital, the largest overseas US military hospital, to see a specialist. No cancer cells popped up in their tests, but there were more extensive tests they wanted to perform just to be sure. My ODA process would have to wait even longer.
At that point I decided that it was not worth it to me, that my future endeavors likely lay in another mission. At my age, I had little time to waste. The train-up time for an SFODA soldier is already almost 2 years from the beginning of selection, depending on the assigned MOS. Even six months meant a huge chunk of time in relation to my Army career. And I was no spring chicken. I dropped out of the selection process.
Dropping out would have upset me a lot more were there not lots of options in the Army. It’s one of the things that I love about the Army (there are plenty of things I don’t love); there are tons of options. I’m planning on submitting my warrant Officer packet 60 days before the end of my deployment to Afghanistan. I have back up plans if that doesn’t work out, too. I’ve set the goal of being promoted to E6 in 4 years and E7 in 7 years (if I reenlist). Both are the minimum times one can reach those ranks. I see no reason to wait around for more rank…
I’ve also set a goal of learning each of the Level 1 Warrior Common Tasks like the back of my hand, when I get back. I’ll drill them on my own time until I’m an expert.
The point is, we should have a destination in mind and a roadmap to get there. Plus, we need a Plan B. And C.
Back for R+R
After three days of little sleep, I’ve finally made it back to Germany for R+R. I always experience altered mental states when I come back from the field, and of course my deployment is much longer than any field exercise. The experience is usually a combination of a heightened sense of smell, euphoria, and a dream-like sensation–as if I should wake up at any time and find myself in tougher conditions. I’ve surmised before that this state, combined with a much lower tolerance for alcohol and massive jet lag for Soldiers who have to go back to the continental US, may contribute to the problems some Soldiers have upon their return.
I feel great, though I do have to keep reminding myself I’m on leave, that I don’t have to get u and be somewhere. That I don’t have to put on ACUs or carry my weapon. My wife and I have a trip planned to the Edelweiss lodge in Garmisch, Germany, in the Alps.
Here’s a few pics of myself and my happy family:
My beautiful wife, Donna, and I.
Eva with Daddy
Eva with Mommy
Emily--Greek for endless energy...
If there was a cookie jar, Eva's hand would be in it
Edelweiss
I know I’ll take a beating for this
In case you didn’t know, Mel Gibson has a temper problem.
But let me just say this: I’ve seen men driven to insanity by bad relationships. Men better than I. I’ve had my battles with insanity myself. There’s a million sad and angry songs because of relationship pain.
There’s no excuse for Mel Gibson if he hit Oksana Grigorieva, his girlfriend with whom he’s had a child. I’m a big proponent of personal responsibility. The easiest way to make the world better is to quit worrying about everyone else and work on ourselves.
Mel should have known better. But Mel fell for the oldest trick in the book: A younger woman with fake boobs.
Oh yeah, she was Russian, too.
Mel Gibson left his wife of 30 years and started a relationship with Grigorieva. His divorce is not yet final. He’s admitted in interviews that his ex-wife was a much better person than he, that he has a legion of personal demons, including alcoholism.
When I hear the tapes leaked to the media, I hear jealousy, the most virulent and extreme emotion in human experience. Cain killed Abel because he was jealous. But again, Mel should have known better. A woman who pays so much attention to her looks is trouble. Plus, she has millions to gain. Mel had little to gain.
Critics should be careful. I’d like to know what many of them have said or done in the heat of the moment when they’ve fought with their partners.
The best thing that can happen for Mel Gibson is that he stay completely away from Grigorieva. He will need his friends. His real friends who don’t care about his millions. Someone who’ll just sit and talk, because I know–I just know–that Gibson feels bad about what he did and said. I’m not saying that feeling bad is enough, but his rage dulled his good sense.
And sorry, but my instincts scream when I see Grigorieva. She selectively released some tapes. She denies releasing them. Who did? I’m sure she acted like the perfect angel while on tape, but I’m sure she knows the buttons to push to get Mel going. And it’s perfect timing, what with their custody battle meaning millions of dollars for her if she wins.
So again. Mel’s friends need to keep him away from her. There’ll be no sanity in him until she’s out of the picture. Give her her millions and just let her go, Mel. There’s plenty of other good looking younger women who want your cash.
And your movies, Braveheart, The Passion of The Christ, and Apocalypto are still some of the best movies I’ve ever seen.
Taking Responsibility
I’m on two weeks leave, so in between satisfying my voracious appetite for reading and Heineken, I have time to watch Dr. Phil.
There was a woman on the show who claims her childhood ordeals as an excuse for her current bad behavior, which included cheating on her husband at least 5 times.
I did not have a particularly great childhood, but even the bad experiences I had made me who I am today. Some of what I am today is good, some bad. I hope that most is good. While I have in the past thought a lot about my childhood, and still think about it some today, I cannot remember at any time using my childhood as an excuse for anything that I have done wrong. I’m not saying that my childhood didn’t have some negative effect on the ways that I’ve acted in the past (and probably in the future), but it doesn’t excuse my own bad choices. Afterall, where does it end? Hasn’t everyone had some bad experiences as a child? And it’s kind of like my argument against Darwinism: Darwinists point to specific traits and give reasons for those traits. For instance, a giraffe has a long neck so that it can eat the buds atop a tree. Really? So any animal without a long neck can’t eat the buds atop a tree? There are many very great people who had “bad” childhoods. I think about many authors (I like to read about authors’ histories’; they give me insight as to what motivated them) who had tyrannical fathers, or hovering mothers, or who grew up without their biological parents or were adopted. Winston Churchill had almost no relationship with his father.
When we are mature enough to make the excuse that our past “caused” our bad actions, paradoxically we condemn ourselves. For at that moment, we admit we did wrong, and we even suppose to know the cause.
We can never be free of our own choices. No matter our blessings or curses. We cannot from one side of our mouth parrot Nietzsche: “Whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”, but from the other side utter, “bad things happened to me, so I do bad things.”
Ultimately, nothing of value comes without a price. When we decide that we are responsible for every one of our intentional actions, it at once both horrible and beautiful–and supremely empowering.
Reflections: The Army, Foreign Policy, Life and War
Lately I’ve thought quite a bit how my concepts and perceptions of America’s role in the world have changed, what America should do in regards to its foreign policy and about my choice to join the Army. I’d like to talk a bit about Army life, my choice to join the Army, the Army’s future and mine. Some of these thoughts are rather random.
Comparing my previous job as a police officer to my position in the Army, I sometimes wonder if I’d go back if given the chance. The answer I’ve come up with is: No. I’d stay right where I am. Of course there are some very difficult things to deal with in the Army, but I think overall it suits me well. I’ve had to adapt somewhat, but I’m good at this. The best thing is the chance to do so many things while in the military. The upward mobility is much more evident than it was at the police department and I’m satisfied with my pay and benefits. Not to mention that I don’t have to deal with obnoxious drunk people very often. I get a lot of time off–plenty of four-day weekends and 30 days of leave a year. I’ll never starve in the Army. I remember working for the PD, living paycheck to paycheck many times, though I can’t say I felt I was underpaid. I consider both the Army and police work to be an honor and I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity.
I have so much more to learn both about the Army itself and the very technical aspects of my work as an Intelligence Analyst. I like the challenge though. I get to see the world, though I’m looking forward to being stationed in the States again. I miss my country and the sense of freedom there.
It’s exciting to me to think about all of the learning I’m going to be doing, and the things I’ll have to write about and tell my kids. The promotion system is very motivating–kind of like leveling up in a game. You earn points for doing well and learning different skills and than when your time comes, if you have enough points you get promoted.
As far as the future of the Army and its role in the world: The nature of near-future conflicts is of course going to be different than the set piece wars of decades ago. We’re the dog who caught the car and now doesn’t know what to do. I was reading an article the other day about the war in Afghanistan. Some people were commenting about asymmetric warfare (guerilla warfare), saying tha Saddam Hussein should have used guerilla warfare instead of trying to fight straight up. I think this misses the point. Hussein could not have retained any of his power while conducting guerilla warfare. He would have been driven underground with his fighters, living like a dog. Hussein never had a chance. He was a fool, who would be alive today had he taken GW Bush up on his offer to simply leave power, or at least let people in to look for WMD.
Some are understandably very critical of the military’s choice of hardware purchases. Things like the F-22 Raptor. Many of these people speak as if we will never have to fight a conventional war again. While we should narrow our focus to the matter at hand, we must remember that conventional warfare is much more dangerous to fight than any counterinsurgency America will be fighting in the coming years. We should remain flexible, ever ready to change our course of action should another nation rise to confront us. The Russo/Georgian conflict shows full well that conventional conflicts can raise their disastrous heads at any movement. And the terrorists are getting better. They’re learning,a s the 2006 Israeli/Hezbollah war showed. The terrorists, armed with ultra-modern anti-tank missiles, used somewhat conventional methods of warfare–a defense-in-depth spider web–to wreak havoc on Israeli Merkava tank advances. Hezbolla was even able to hack the Israeli communication systems, enabling them to place defensive positions where attacks were likely to occur.
In some ways, Hezbollah’s success is exaggerated; the Israelis still maintained about 7:1 kill ratios. But this still surprised analysts who are used to complete Arab ineptness in war fighting.
It is interesting to speak about foreign policy, what wars should be fought, what ones shouldn’t. But in the end, I think a Soldier should separate himself from the political sphere and go about his job as a professional. Of course he does have morals. A Soldier on the battlefield, especially in a counterinsurgency situation, is asked to exercise his judgement and restraint to a much greater extant than the ranting pundits. And he has to do it while bullets fly at him. When Soldiers meet on the battlefield, it is a primal endeavor. Warriors on either side know they may die. It is Warriors that fight wars and win or lose them. Were it merely enough to “out-nice” the enemy, it’s doubtful there’d a war to fight at all. For instance, if we really have to worry that the Taliban is being nicer than we are to Afghan citizens, why are we worried about the Taliban? But when a Warrior in a Western Democracy is asked to fight, he should do his duty. His enemy, his counter-part Soldier, will forgive him. Soldiers in Western cultures pick up a fallen enemy Soldier, dust him off, offer him warm cup of coffee and a bed. This, I admit, is an adequate argument against enhanced interrogation techniques. Our Warriors should fight, and when the battle’s over, show the enemy why we’re better than they are, even after we’ve reminded them we’re better fighters, too.
Intelligence and its interpretation will rule the battlefield of the next generation. Knowing exactly where the enemy is has never been easier. Only the rapidity of modern mechanized warfare may outrun the intelligence collection array. In fact, the complexity, fluidity and speed of modern warfare has likely surpassed the ability of the human mind to keep up. The thrusts, ripostes, counter-attacks. The various methods of attack and defense. Future symmetrical fights will be over and done with before the TV cameras can expand their tripods. And this is a good thing for free nations. It is the character of media to criticise good more than evil. Evil gets a pass, because well, it’s evil and that’s what it’s supposed to do–evil things.
America will have to decide what it expects from its military. Is genocide, the possibility of rogue states possessing WMD, the harboring or training of international terrorists, enough to send our troops to a foreign land, to fight, to die, to risk the critical eyes of the world? We must ask ourselves these questions, or risk watering a growing tree of cynicism.
The utter destructiveness of massed industrial war may be enough of a deterrent to avoid it for the coming decades. Instead, state actors will be like two men in a bar, puffing their chests, unable to back down and lose face. They’re more likely to slash the other guy’s tire in the parking lot than get into a fight. The cost of the fight is too high.
On the other hand, there is the aggressive drunk with whom the bar owners must deal. In this case, it is radical Islam, intoxicated with religious zeal. The Jihadist becomes part of an angry mob. Warlike, aggressive and absolutist, Islamic extremism abhors the perceived feminized West. We in the West will give soccer balls to children. The terrorists will train the children to blow themselves up. We will build and paint schools, and the terrorists will knock them down. We have fooled ourselves and ignored the most powerful factor in human history: Culture. Anything can be made morally right, anything is possible if one’s culture says it is.
Oddly, the lack of a real, professional, warrior class amongst the Arab nations allows their violent, human nature to show through. We need not ask if man will fight, but over what ideal he has that makes him willing to die for it. Instead of Myrmidons or Samurai–proud warriors set apart from the rest of their countrymen– Muslim nations are more akin to a barbarian horde. They lack discipline, cohesion, military standards. In fact, our most professional trainers, the best in the world at what they do, are finding that it is nearly impossible to impart military professionalism of any high standard to the army and police in Afghanistan. While our positivism may be our greatest strength, we need a dose of realty. When 70% percent of a country, such as in Afghanistan, cannot read or write, how do we propose that operations orders and police reports get written?
Man does not like peace for very long. He will begin to romanticize images of war even as it rages around him. In film, novels, video games. We must stop lying to ourselves; humans like to fight. If we can admit this, we can avoid being on the losing end of a fight. It’s a very bad thing to lose a war.
Observation
The easiest way to spot a spoiled child or adult is if they are fussy about their food.
Toughening kids up
I’m a little worried about our future generation, and it’s not so much that they’re lazy or smoke too much dope or listen to bad music. We did all that back in the day and still managed to crush the Soviets and invent the internet.
No, I’m worried because our kids our downright wimpy compared to the youth of my day. It’s all about safety, they say. No more playing outside–they may get kidnapped and held in underground dungeons for a decade or two. We’ve all seen it happen on the news. Our kids have to stay right on the couch, watching hours of television. No books. Johnny thinks those are boring. And his hands don’t have a single scrape, cut or callous upon their nubile surface. Mom need not worry about scun knees unless it’s from a rug burn that Johnny got as he raced to the ringing microwave for his next frozen meal.
Back in the day, we missed meals because we didn’t want to come inside.
How about chores? I had to stack wood, mow the lawn, weed the garden. I don’t think any of that happens now. The result? A lot of unappreciative kids.
The young people I see in the Army look downright fragile. I expect smoke to rise from their skin when sunlight touches it. I mean, I was arm wrestling and getting in fights with high school students when I was 12. My friends and I didn’t Twitter, we threw rocks at each other for fun. Oh yeah, and razor-sharp, freshwater clams, too. Excellent for taking out eyes and leaving impressive scars. Bikes, ridden as if they were part of a spoke-and-sprocket destruction derby. We made ramps, seeing how much air we could grab. We racked our nuts on goosenecks and ripped skin off our bodies. But our current generation can’t even climb on a bike without a helmet.
Something bad might happen. Little Johnny can barely go outside without being spray-painted in Nerf.
I’m assuming that Boy Scout enrollment is down from my days, too. Wouldn’t want to toughen a young boy up with a 12 hour mountain hike, sleeping in a tent in the rain, or large scale stick fights. Hate to have him act like a boy. Hate to have him not be around Mom for more than 15 minutes.
Something bad might happen.
No backyard wrestling. Just Facebook. No walking or biking to a friend’s house. Mom will give you a ride. No more playing outdoors. The kids may get caught in the rain.
When I was 12 I was carrying a rifle around in the woods, by myself. Can you imagine if someone saw a 12 year old with a rifle, alone nowadays? FBI SWAT teams would be air-assaulted into the area for a three day standoff, with CNN there to give us a minute by minute account on what was sure to be another Columbine. And guess what I did with that rifle. I shot squirrels. Cute, defenseless critters, who made it their mission to steal the material from between the logs of our camp, making fall nights in Maine a little more chilly. So I hunted tree rat. Damn, I was a good shot.
Todays kids are a bunch of wimps. If we want to help them out, I think we ought to make their lives a little more austere. We’re creating a generation of scared old women.
Yes, Johnny needs more rocks thrown at him by his buddies, he needs to walk more, run more get hungry and get beat up. Otherwise I fear we’ll find him baking muffins and knitting sweaters.
Random Musings
Don’t go to bed angry.
People want justice and strength from leaders, not either/ or.
Physical pain is better overcome by movement and exercise than by rest.
Fish oil supplements are beneficial and improve test scores, memory, sense of well being and decrease chances of heart disease.
No one is successful going it alone. Network, and treat your friends well. Value your family.
To be successful in relationships, we must subvert our own egos, and admit that the things we despise in others, are many times the same attributes we have.
To avoid procrastination, do one thing each day that you don’t want to.
Use cash, not credit.
Talk less. Bite your tongue.
Don’t give up the love you have for a love imagined.
No one likes whining.
Less desire equals more happiness.
Never be cruel to your children, even when you’re angry.
When violence is the only option, commit to it with all your strength.
When the violence is over, help your opponent back to his feet.
Competition
This morning I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. The air was crisp and sharp–fall is coming. I began remembering my earlier days of football and softball in the cool, dry air. The running and the burning lungs and the euphoric, relaxed feeling I got when the games were over.
I used to be a very competitive person. I’d try anything just to feel the spirit of the game. I lost this after my divorce. Something left me and I changed. I just wanted to be left alone to write.
One thing that I loved was softball, and many weekends I’d play in tournaments–6, 7, 8 games. Like I said, I’d try anything. Fencing (I won a medal in my first fencing tournament for amateurs in Bucksport, Maine), power lifting, jiu-jitsu. I played in my last softball tournament sometimes in the fall of 2006, just after I’d left the police department and two seasons away from my divorce, from which I hadn’t yet recovered. I had to be talked into playing, and I was on cruise control the whole time. Funny thing is, it was so easy, not caring, not having the game be too important–it was simple;my skills were still intact, but the burning desire was gone.
I was awarded the Most Valuable Player award for the tourney and a huge trophy to go with it, the largest of my career. It sat in the corner of my living room for a long time before I brought out to the dumpster. I remember it laying there amid the trash, thinking that it didn’t mean a thing to me, only my writing, my kids and trying find what I would become mattered.
When I entered the Army, I found my loss of competitive spirit to be very detrimental. While younger men found the taunting of the drill sergeants to be motivating, I found it needlessly abusive and annoying. Sure I tried my best on all of the runs and the little contest, but I didn’t have a rabid desire like the young guys did. In AIT I even forsook the unit’s flag football team, another sport which at one time I loved and excelled. The raucous behavior of new athletes was a thorn in my paw, and I avoided them when they displayed their exuberance.
Since I arrived here in Germany, the only athletic event that I’ve taken part in was a 5k race, not counting of course the Soldier of the Year events. I’d never run a race since junior high school, but I did well and enjoyed myself.
As I exited the commissary this morning, I looked at the hill that runs along the front of the building. It’s steep, but not terribly long. One of the things I used to do a lot of was hill sprints. I think if I was told I could only do one exercise, hill sprints would be it. They build great cardio and leg strength, and in the end, character.
Then I thought I felt it again. That old me, digging himself out of his grave. You can still excel,he groaned. The zombie-like me wiped the loam from his body and walked toward me with a slight limp–must be an aching knee. He stretch and grabbed his lower back. That must hurt a bit, too.
I walked back home and changed into my short and t-shirt, then walked down the street to an inclined portion of sidewalk, a good long area about 60-70 yards in length. I did 8 sprints up the incline and walked back each time. When I got back home, I did 100 pushups, 2 sets o 50.
There’s a flag football league starting up this month. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll see how much of my old self still remains, and how much has truly died.
Thought control
I’ve come to realize just how important being able to control your thoughts is. This may seem obvious, and I guess it is, but when we really stop and consider the affects of negative thoughts on daily life, it’s quite striking really.
For instance, try an experiment. When you’re in a decent mood, stop and think about one of the worst times in your life. Something that really impacted you on an emotional level, and changed the way you viewed the world. Perhaps a moment of violence. I’m not trying to torture you here, only to get you to see that your thoughts have an immediate impact of your biology. Your face will get pale, as blood is shunted to vital organs. Your hands may get cold and clammy, for the same reasons. Perhaps you find yourself clenching your teeth and your face becoming warm from a rise in blood pressure.
I take the cognitive view of psycho therapy. That’s not to say that I don’t recognize things like chemical imbalances and such, but it’s obvious that thoughts can control to some extant those very same chemicals that some believe they must controlled with pills.
There’s a looped recording in your head. I’m sure you listen to it everyday. It’s says good things and it says negative things. What percentage of good and bad differs in us all. And sometimes we need to hear bad. It may drive us to change behavior that needs changing. But also, you may be hearing or thinking about things that are stunting your growth. Broken past relationships, failures, weaknesses, conflicts. We should not be reliving those times on a daily basis. We should only be employing the lessons we learned from them .
Needlessly reliving past horrors be they an hour or a decade in the past is like continuously throwing sand into the gears of your life’s machine.
Misfit Soldier wins Soldier of the Month
My only remaining photo from high school
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