Yaya, who moved my cheese?

This post is sponsored by Marca Piña & Tonkita by Arix.

Our family has uprooted itself from the warmth and safety of Manila and moved to Twilight country. 

MWAH!

A Thousand Floodgates Opened

This post is sponsored by HP Ink Advantage

Man, my kid just said one of the worst things I’ve heard in the time I’ve been a dad.

“Papa, take away your phone.”

I fucking died.

My body speaks and it is not pleased.

This is a sponsored post by CrossFit Manila Kapitolyo.

I heard from a friend some months ago that kids as young as 14 and 15 have started going to the gym. Not for health reasons but for aesthetic ones because for sure, those 14 / 15 years olds can run a marathon without so much as a drink of water. I couldn’t believe it and yet somehow it made sense. Which is different from sensible, but I understood the why of it. Because you know what happens when you turn 14 / 15? Girls happen.

I think there’s a lot more pressure now for young guys to look as good if not better than the girls they are hoping to date. And maybe the girls also expect much more from guys. Either that or we’ve been having a severe shortage of charm and must base our strategy instead on really tight shirts.

Shout out to Jersey.
source: tjhtees.com

The vast depth of the ocean.

Why do we do the things we do?

You could spend your entire life not fully knowing who you are. Is that how life works? A man on his death bed will discover how he truly will act when faced with the imminent end to his life. Even in his dying moment, who he truly is will rise to the surface, the last gasp of air before returning to the unknowable void.

You can spend your life living as an image, a photocopy of other people’s expectations or you can live as you truly are, an original. Most people live in between. After all, you won’t know yourself fully until your dying day.

In Octopi Sea

So in case you guys missed the big banner there on the side of my site, I am part of the SoMoms and my penis has never felt more alone in its life.

Not that, you know, my penis wants to be around other penises. (plural: penisi?)

Not your father's Crayola

One of the remnants of my childhood is Crayola. There was always Crayola in the house, in drawers, in bags, on the floors, on the walls, on tables and chairs, on almost everything. The world was a canvas for my airplanes, rocket ships, cars, kites, cats, robots, and whatever else was tumbling behind my eyes.

It's that kind of creative freedom that I want the boys to have. Free to make a mess. Free to make their stories. Free to play. And since Crayola is 100% nontoxic I'm free to leave them by themselves. And free to xbox my life away bwahahahahahahhaa! (note to wife: I'm kidding! Please put down that hammer.)

Our kids are a mess.

I came across this article that I found really interesting. Here, go read it. It's true though isn't it? We all want people to see only the best side of us. But who are we kidding? That's not making a real connection to someone if you only show a life that's been edited, photoshopped, and filtered.

We're messy creatures. And you only really get to know someone when you're both in the dirt.