👋 Oi, mga repapips, Brian Dys here! I love music, photography, and creative stuff like UX design and art. This is a place where I collect my thoughts and works. Apart all these, I’m Jaycelle’s better half and Bryce’s dad. 🥰
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Pardon my ignorace but the two former personalities (Rivermaya and Rico Blanco) are who I’m familiar with. Then I wikisurfed to Japsuki.
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Awhile ago, I received a surprise in my email – that I passed the ToT post exam.
The little sacrifice of waking up early in the mornin, driving 46km to the venue, simultaneously participating in the discussion and working remotely – paid off.
I am now qualified as a lab assistant during the Web Development Training.
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It was another day of going to the office. Early in the morning at six, coming out of the shower I opened our matrimonial closet and saw there hanging at the spotlight the onesies we bought for baby.
Even before we knew baby’s gender, we picked brightly-colored onesies for three to six months of age. Jaycelle hang it by the closet facing forward so that it will slap me into reality that baby’s on the way.
And yes it did. Every time it caught me staring at it because I couldn’t believe. Maybe I don’t want to believe that in a few month’s time, someone will join in our lives like an exchange student from a foreign country with the promise of stay.
It is heart-melting – like the feeling I had when my younger brother came into this world. I wanted to carry him every day at our front yard, under the rising sun before breakfast. I wanted to show him how happy it was to bathe in the rain and under the downspout.
I needed more slapping.
And this time, it was a set of onesies for ages zero to three months.
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Would you believe that US has a government agency for Fatherhood?
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I want to tell you… Whoo-oo… That I love you…
You won’t believe it. That was me singing.
Guess what? I was drunk last night. Maybe I should make this a template.
I found myself meeting up with my former officemates / drinking buddies, Peachy, Alex, JE, and Badong. Too bad, Mandy retired earlier. These beer-repapips made the tiresome work at the office bearable. Of course, the venue – at Stir-Crazy. I don’t remember shelling out money. Well, there were very little that I remember, anyway.
Then they all went away except for Peachy who stayed with me and my bottles of beer. Suddenly, my brother texted me; telling me to go to some beer-house at Timog. He needed my drinking-buddy expertise, and my sensible opinions on matters ranging from ants and dinosaurs to end-times religions. But mostly, it’s about love. It’s all about love.
When people who rarely call you up (to ask you how have you been) suddenly call, ninety percent of the time, they have a problem. And you know what it is about.
Cutting the long story short, we went home and at 4AM, I went to the other side of the street where the carinderia was still open. I had my dinner, finally. The papaitan was served smokin’ warm. After five minutes of wondering why in the world did I not have rice, I told the girl to give me one cup. I thought I was going to rot there staring at the viand.
The real moral here is that every Wednesday, I and my friends should have a Stir-Crazy session. That’s what I realized with my genius brain.
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Originally published on Friendster, 18 January 2007