‘Cause I’m Having Such A Good Time

It’s 10:20 PM as I begin typing this entry. A lot has happened in this time. I’ve been back, yep, but just haven’t felt any inspiration to post. I’m sitting here in my Man Room with my son as he lies on the floor and sleeps on pillows. He much prefers this setup over his bed any day. I have a picture of him, of the whole little Mckinney family on the front page of this diary. We’re doing great, as you might notice. Life is treating us as well as it should; no more, no less. I still have my job at UoP, but things have changed. My team of twelve is down to seven, and I know who the next three are that are jumping ship. We have a new manager. He’s a good person, but being new to the whole manager gig, he’s pretty suceptible to just about any of the whims of the senior managers. They are shady as hell. So, life’s gotten harder, of course. I’ll give you my thoughts on life getting harder. You ask God for strength. You get it. Thing is, you don’t get the strength. You get a bigger challenge than the one you’re praying about. You suddenly find that while dealing with the new challenge, you’ve become stronger. Thus, life gets harder simply so you can have the strength to keep living. So many people don’t see it that way.

Please note that this will be a rather rambling entry, as my memories and thoughts will come out of order.

I have applied for jobs. One with the Maricopa County Sheriff’s office, and one with the Pinal County Sheriff’s office. More pay, a job that suits me, and a steady government position. Nothin’ wrong with that. I plan on getting a real estate license and studying many markets, not just this valley. I want my family to have wealth, and damn it, we’re going to get it. I don’t plan on my wife ever working again, unless it’s a job she really wants, instead of needs. I want to get this happening quickly enough that I can give my mother a comfortable home as well. My brother, probably not. Let me get to that one right now. I recently spoke with him on the phone. I had called for my mother, whom I spoke to for maybe ten minutes, tops. I then listened to my brother rant and rave for three and a half hours about how rough his life is, and whose fault it is except his own. He also kept alluding to his thoughts that it was really mean of me to have just left like I did. he also went on to tell me that I’m never going to find success here unless someone higher up hands it to me. I dunno about you, but I see someone who is not going to get a piece of my pie when I get it.

the conversation, if that’s what you can call it, left me mentally and emotionally drained. It took so much effort not to blow up at him. It took so much effort not to tell him what a damn fool he is.

He whined about how people look at him like he’s an animal. He whined about how not too many people will hire him now. They act like he’s going to do something bad.

Well, Scotty, ol’ brother o’ mine, do you still walk the streets all wide-eyed, like some predator out for his next kill? Does your head still dart about, like some crazy bird watching out for danger? Do you exude hate and frustration with your every breath? You used to, and quite frankly, if you speak the same, you likely are the same. Maybe work on that, okay? Then complain. People look at you like you’re an animal because you act like one. Youe everyday movements, your demeanor, and the way you go off like some raging ape every time something happens that you don’t like. If you’re reading this, you’re probably fuming. You’re probably already red-faced and swearing. You might even have gotten up, walked around flapping your arms and screamed and hit stuff. Like you always used to. For years. Not the six months that you insist it was. There are years of entries in just this diary about your rages. So, about your rage. Try to sublimate that. In fact, don’t just sublimate it; stop it. And when we next speak, thank me for this advice and news and proof.

Happy things.

My wife is as cute as ever, and is taking to motherhood very well. Our son, born on March 22, is advancing faster than he should, and was in fact rolling within three weeks of being born. He is patient, and rarely cries. He generally has to have a very good reason to cry. I’m glad he’s figuring that out so early on.

In Cadence’s first few days of life, he was quite jaundiced. He had to sleep under a Bili Blanket for a while. Three days, to be exact. After that, he was fine. He’s growing relatively well, as he’s kinda skinny but really long. The doctor says he’s doing great though. We’re noticing a bit of fattening up this week.

We lots Max, the dog, on the 21st. He had to be put to sleep. When we got him, we knew he had something wrong with him. Turns out it was a brain disorder that caused him to not be able to process protein. Well, we changed his diet to high carbs to counter that. It worked for a couple of months, and he was doing great, but a few days before he died, he started wandering around, banging into things, and throwing up constantly. By the last day, his stomach had shut down. I knew, because he threw up fourteen hours after his last feeding, and the food was exactly as it was when it went in. It even smelled the same. We gave our little dog a good life while he was here though.

Baby Cadence is stirring. I’m going to start getting ready for bed, and wake Shasta up. I have to be up at six. Dang job.

Maybe I’ll write more soon.