Time to Say Goodbye

I've peaked in college. Since I graduated, that's how it felt.

The last time I wrote for this blog, I was 20 years old. I was an intern for Malaya Business Insight, a broadsheet with an intellectual reader base in Metro Manila. I was naive, but I was hustling.

I remember the way the sun reflected on the white Supreme Court paint; the bustling sounds of the cameramen and reporters outside the press room. The writers were all shut inside their cubicles unless they had to conduct an interview.

It was the pork barrel era. Leila De Lima was in hot water because the investigation of Janet Napoles rested squarely on the shoulders of the Department of Justice. Today, we're facing a similar crisis, only exponentially worse.

I didn't know what I was doing with my life. I was concerned with so many unnecessary things, like expensive headphones, Reebok shoes -- toys that I thought were expensive enough to make into a dream. Those were the days.

Like A Foreword

I crash-landed into my early twenties. I had a chip on my shoulder and so much angst against the world.

My family and I lived in a shoebox, fresh from getting kicked out of my father's home church, where he returned to a couple of decades later after living in QC, to a rude awakening. He had some theological differences with the pastor who served as its caretaker, and they had clashing management styles. So like the Israelites out of Egypt, we were cast out from a house of bondage into the world of homelessness.

We lived in a tent for a year, and after we scrounged up enough money, rented a small apartment of about 20 sq. meters on the far side of the city. We were sandwiched between two other units and the only windows led out to a front porch that was sealed in by another door. The summers were absolutely brutal.

I would wake up too early in the morning in a pool of my own sweat. I would pull out some of my clothes from the dresser and they would feel freshly ironed. Even in the middle of the night when God turned down the thermostat, the atmosphere there felt solely like the heat of hell.

I couldn't invite my friends over because my parents were unwelcoming of "unbelievers," and I had a strong sense they didn't want me to meet anyone. And not that it mattered anyway, the house was so hot that my friends wouldn't last an hour with a gun to their heads.

The Worst and the Best

My girlfriend left me for another guy. I didn't qualify for the course I really wanted. I was an outcast at home, in a city where I really didn't know anyone.

My life was miserable. But it was also the best.

College was my escape. I remember looking into the Pasig river from an unnamed floor in our main building, thinking I was finally free. My professor was late for IT class and I was secretly hoping to get a chance encounter with my then-girlfriend, who studied IT. When he arrived, I got one of my earliest tastes of how rambunctious my classmates can be when you make them wait for half an hour in a poorly ventilated hallway.

I met the most loveable bunch of misfits on God's green Earth and I had so many adventures with them. I joined a pageant, and for the first time in my unremarkable life, I drowned in the screams and applause of people, just for showing up. I got good grades for next to no effort, and I was popular in my college.

Pathetic, I know, how I'm reminiscing on these things now, but the length of the quarantine can make people do strange things. Just last month, I signed up for a transcription job, and I hate transcription with a passion! It's a shame that school is out. This can make for a hundred thesis topics for mass comm students.

Take Me Back

Back then, life was so simple. I would go to school, meet my friends, flirt with a few girls, and then study when I had the time. After class, we would go to a nearby mall and play video games.

There was a time when we were assigned to make a magazine about Divisoria, and we spent nearly all week just playing Tekken and occasionally taking pictures.

I didn't live a life in high school, I was a certified shut-in. In college, I was crossing three-meter-high floods in Bulacan for a case study, spending a night in a three-star hotel because we interviewed an architect in the middle of a storm, and made up any excuse just to go see each other in our hometowns.

Outside their windows, their gates, and driveways, we would all stand like a perfect before picture, waiting to be snapped in. We'd get some work done, or so we like to pretend. No one smoked, no one had a drinking problem, and the worst anyone carried in terms of psychological damage was a broken heart.

Today, life is a slog and the future is black. We're all struggling to find the next step and figuring out if it's even worth it. To all the people whose life matches the veneer of positivity they put on Instagram, Facebook, and their little vlogs on YouTube, I tip my hat to you.

Right now, most of us are just trying to cope. Our job prospects have either been put on hold or disappeared completely. Some have even lost their current jobs by the action of the government.

A Sunken Place

So many of my peers have developed self-destructive habits. Some smoke, engage in indiscriminate sex, and some have become so unsatisfied with their lives that they have to constantly lie about it. There are some people that I haven't heard from in years, and I can only see their once-happy faces in my memory.

I'm sure there's a smart way to find happiness in the world we live in now, but today, I just can't find it. Maybe tomorrow I'll be lucky. If not, then maybe the day after that.

I just have to find better ways to cope.

A part of my soul will always be wandering the streets of Luneta, with the memory of friends when we went there. A part will always linger in the Port Area, in Intramuros, in the boundary between Rizal and Antipolo through the Valley Golf subdivision. 

These places are only important to me now because of the feelings they hold. It's of a lost yesterday, a paradoxically happy and miserable time in my life when I didn't know who I was but glad to be myself. It's heaven and the Sunken Place, all rolled up in one.

Goodbye

The world is no place for dreamers, and it clearly isn't a place for the sentimental. Before it makes me into someone I wouldn't recognize from the time I was truly alive, I just wanted to give these things one last pass. It's time to say goodbye.

Geek Speak: A Sound Rig on a Budget and Some Gadget Reviews

Assembling a "gaming rig" is still becoming more and more popular even with the impending release of the Playstation 4 and the Xbox 720. CPUs and video cards that don't "bottleneck" each other--this is normal talk in some circles of the internet. However, if you're not an audiophile or a producer, chances are you have never heard of a "sound rig."

A "sound rig" is a collection of gear that aims to produce a "transparent" sound output.

What is a transparent sound output?

When producers make records in the studio, they produce what I call genuine sound. Transparent sound output is hearing this genuine sound, well, genuinely, or as is. Genuine sound is heard by less than 5% of the human population because of crappy earphones, crappy music devices, and piracy--mainly piracy. Those Youtube-to-mp3 converters are an in insult to the pirate community, not to mention an atrocity to the music industry.

If 95% of the music-loving population hears their music through a pair of earbuds they bought off a sidewalk, what a producer spends on his world class studio is mostly wasted. Doesn't it kill you when you hear someone's earphones bleeding sound? Their ears are destroyed by massive waves of sound when all they really need is noise cancellation.

Transparent sound is sound as is. No bass enhancers, no 3D sound effects, no 2 MB file for a 3 minute song. It's a song just the way the artist intended for you to hear it.

Building a sound rig is very expensive. It isn't recommended for people who don't take sound seriously. It's also risky because some expensive products out there are created to fit singular styles of music. Beats by Dr. Dre is a perfect example. Most people say that it's overrated and that the sound is too drenched in bass--no, there's nothing wrong with their equalizers, they are correct. Beats was made to suit rap and hip-hop in general so it emphasizes elements that make hip-hop, hip-hop: Bass, vocal, and snare. Dr. Dre also paid a lot of celebrities to endorse it, even Lebron James is in the wagon.

So, without further ado, I present you the mobile sound rig I assembled for under P10,000 (about $200).

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Container: Cloudfone Thrill 430x

(A review.)

In the Philippines, brands like Apple, Sony, and Samsung don't really appeal to the masses. The market is flushed instead by rebranded "China phones" and homebrew phones from the likes of Cherry Mobile, MyPhone, Torque, and Cloudfone among many others. These brands have been at each other's necks ever since the Android made its debut in the Philippines. 

The Cloudfone Thrill 430x is hands down the best phone one can get at the low-P7000 price range. It takes stunningly clear photos even in low light with its back camera and it's equipped with a dual-core Snapdragon processor. What stands out about this phone is it's 4160 mAH battery pack that can last you up to a week with basic usage. However, it weighs about 200 grams and it's ridiculously thick.

(A comparison.)

Those who prefer style over substance should shift to this phone's quad-core counterpart, the Starmobile Icon. Style over substance--but switching to a quad-core phone? Yes. The Icon and the 430x both have an Adreno 203 GPU. The Icon's two extra cores don't give it a substantial advantage on HD gaming compared to the 430x. Shuffling through apps simultaneously gives the Icon an edge, but with a 1800 mAH battery, who would recommend it? Plus the Icon is priced at P7990, with it's advantages over the 430x only being: a 5 MP front cam, a little extra RAM, and a free microSD card.

The Starmobile Icon

(Back to the Sound Rig.)

What appealed to me about the 430x is it's built-in Yamaha sound chip, something only found in the Samsung Galaxy SII and the lesser Gionee Ctrl V4. I'm not sure whether it only works on the loudspeaker or on the 3.5 mm jack as well, but it gives me some complacency knowing my phone sounds better than its counterparts. The 430x, like all Android Jellybean phones, has its vanilla equalizer and music player. With the equalizer off, the music felt really flat and I found myself switching it to Techno and Second Normal often. The first tracks I downloaded after all, were rap and rock so I felt a hankering for bass and treble.

What disappointed me about Android Jellybean--not the 430x, Android Jellybean--is yes, it natively supports FLAC but not all the way through. 16 bit FLAC (lossless audio ripped from CDs) are supported, but 24 bit FLAC (ripped from vinyls), are not. Guess we audiophiles would have to wait for Android Kitkat.

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Ear monitors: Brainwavz Proalpha

Wait a minute, where's your amp? The Brainwavz Proalpha, though it is a considerably expensive ear monitor is still a low-end model. Once I get my hands on the Brainwavz R3 would I consider amping because amps cost $170 up. I also need to learn more about signals and impedance.

It's silly, what people look for in earphones today. "I like it with deep bass," "I like it with a good snare." What are we, in the prehistoric times when all that matters are drums? There are so many things to consider: highs, mids, lows, impedance, soundstage, noise cancellation--these are among a hundred other things to think about.

I went through a lot to find Brainwavz. It's an unknown brand from Hong Kong that aims to "produce innovative, high quality audio products with a dedicated focus on high-end sound at a realistic price." I was in the mind of spending a fortune for Klipsch or Marshall Minors when I learned that the typical earphones color the sound to make it more exciting. I resorted to Etymotic and Ultimate Ears but learned that I am but a peasant in the financial world. That was until I read a review about the Brainwavz Alpha that said it hit above its weight class. I sorted out other reviews of Brainwavz from the internet and found that it's making a name for itself through product performance. Goody-goody.

Brainwavz is sold in only 3 stores in the Philippines and I went all the way to Greenhills for a pair. I found the Brainwavz Alpha on the shelf along with the Beta, Proalpha, M3 and others. The Proalpha was the big brother to the Alpha which received rave reviews so I thought what the heck. The Alphas were priced P900 and Proalphas P1950.

(Review)

The Proalpha's performance is nothing short of incredible. The sound isolation is superior to any earphone I've worn before, and the soundstage (the feeling of being in a real concert when what you're listening to is a live recording) is amazing. The highs and mids are good and the bass is balanced, not too boomy, not too absent. As an avid listener of EDM, post-rock, and avant-garde, atmosphere is important to me. Good thing the Proalphas don't fail in that department.

The only thing I didn't like about the Proalphas was its physical build. It was made out of thin plastic that looked brittle and cheap. It's oxygen-free cables were connected to a y-splitter that looked like it could break off with little force. The jack also had a plastic stem to cushion the bends of human usage but it looked like its the one needing a cushion. It also came with only one pair of Comply earplugs which are known to be fragile. Users say its lifespan is only over a month.

The Brainwavz Proalpha

Cloudfone Thrill 430x (Rebranded Innos D9) - P6,999

Brainwavz Proalpha - P1950

Fare - P200

P9419. Not bad.

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That's it for my sound rig. If by any chance you're building yours and you find material better than mine in the same price rage, feel free to reach me. It's always good hearing from another audiophile.

The Pains of Being "Hipster"

First of all, what is a hipster?

A "hipster" is a person who hates things that are generally liked. For example, if everybody in your school likes Nicki Minaj and Lil Wayne while you're into Chiodos and OFWGKTA, then congratulations, you are hipster.

There is a solid belief that tastes in music define a hipster which isn't true at all. "Hipster" is a lifestyle in the same way the South Beach Diet is not just a 5-month phase but a lifetime food plan. So like patriots who have trouble with a corrupt government or like homemakers who have trouble with messy children, hipsters also experience pains of life unique to them. What am I talking about? Read on.

1. Hipsters are commonly branded as trust-fund babies who think they're cooler than everyone.

This is because they get the finer things in life first. For example, if a new Nokia phone is announced to hit the stores next month and it's the first phone to have Corning Glass (a type of glass that's very difficult to scratch), a hipster would have already eBay-ed a phone like that from Japan months ago. While the popular kid in class shows off his scratch-resistant phone, the hipster goes "Yeah, I could totally play Guitar Hero with an actual pick." People respond to that.

Granted that there are hipsters who are total jerks, being hipster is simply a way to become more of an individual and less like a generic baby who consumes all the tasteless crap big business forces down his throat.

2. Hipsters have a difficult time "finding" the stuff they like.

This is because they are meticulous by nature. Everybody knows the internet and what it's capable of. Sadly for hipsters, the internet is a big wasteland where they find useful things only once or twice a month unless they're seriously loaded. Let's say you're watching a good party movie like 21 Jump Street and you find a song with a catchy beat. If you're a normal person, you just go online and straight-up download it. But if you're hipster, things work very differently.

First, (assuming you already know the title of the song), you search for a "lossless quality" copy which is 10-20 times the file size of a "normal quality" mp3. It's VERY DIFFICULT TO FIND. If a "lossless quality" copy (commonly known as FLAC) is not available, you downgrade to a "CD quality" copy (commonly known as 320kbps) which is 2-3 times the file size of a normal mp3 and is 2-3 times harder to find. And if a CDQ isn't available (this already going to feel like a let-down for some hipsters), you downgrade to finding lesser forms of mp3, from 256 kbps, to 192 kbps, and finally the common man's 128 kbps.

"Kbps" stands for kilobit per second. The higher it is, the clearer you will hear complex sounds. A "lossless quality" copy usually falls around 900 kbps. If you like David Cook or other "conventional" rock bands/artists, there is no point in getting a lossless copy. However if you're into opera, classical, or atmospheric techno, you'll find a noticeable difference. Bored yet? We're going deeper.

A lossless copy is virtually impossible to find if the song you like is from an indie artist/band. If it's Kanye West or Rihanna, you wouldn't hit a snag. But if it's This Town Needs Guns or Moving Mountains, things get geeky and complicated. Another thing, you can't download individual songs, you have to download whole albums. Unlike mp3s that have search engines dedicated to them, lossless music is mostly unknown to the world. Albums in a lossless format usually range from 500 to 800 megabytes. (Say goodbye to your bandwidth!)

Also, hipsters prefer buying vinyls (commonly known as LPs) over electronically downloading music like on iTunes. Vinyls give more of a live sound and having a collection of original vinyls by an old band is awesome. Which is cooler? A DVD copy of The Beatle's White Album or an original copy from 1968? Light bulb. Now you get it.

3. Hipsters have a difficult time relating to others because their lives are entirely different. Let's say you're hipster and your friends are talking about movies. They go like "Hey, have you seen the new White House movie? It's freaking nuts!" Inside, you're saying "Yeah, if you're a five year old who enjoys apes banging their fists in a plot that could have been written by another five year old." But you're a nice person, so you say, "Yeah. Gerard Butler? He can act. :)"

This goes on day after day until you find a person with the same taste or until A GOOD MOVIE ACTUALLY COMES OUT OF HOLLYWOOD. This also applies to music, clothing, magazines, and everything related to culture. I'm not saying that hipsters have a more refined taste, it's just when you dabble outside the multiplex, it's really hard to come back. If you find a good hipster girl who loves life, don't let her go. The next girl you find at Starbucks won't be the same as her. Don't be a Taylor Swift.

4. Hipsters are stereotyped as "forever alone." This is because hipsters always have enough free time to find things people overlook. A good book that isn't from JK Rowling, a good track that isn't from Def Jam, or a good film by Jim Carrey--these are things some people would walk their lives without ever experiencing. They're too busy having sex, crashing parties and being full of themselves to care about culture, that's why hipsters are called forever alone. Though I must admit this one is still a puzzler for me. If guys think hipsters are incapable of reproduction, why do they find women in hipster glasses so attractive?

And that's it. 4 of the many, maNY, MANY reasons why being a hipster is discouraging. Keep in mind that you don't have to be hipster to enjoy being an individual. The hipster in the heart of everyone is starting to emerge into the mainstream. Justin Bieber's "Baby" is now one of the most disliked videos on Youtube and Jay Z is getting all kinds of flak for his awkwardly pop-ish album. So don't miss the next arts festival near you. Maybe it's time humanity became less generic, don't you think?

Day 3: Making Headlines

When I was told I have to go to work on a national holiday, I felt no disappointment. There was a prevalent sense that journalists scarcely take holidays off. If you want to cover the ball coming down in Times Square, you should be prepared to miss a few New Year's eves.

So was the story on Monday, August 26, National Heroes' Day, when personalities from every angle of the limelight organized a "Million People March" at the Quirino Grandstand, attended by over 100,000 Filipinos. Imagine it. 100,000 people confined in a single park, free to express their views however they see fit.

The crowd only came in by online media and word-of-mouth. There was no political body or celebrity that nudged them to come. Streamers were discouraged in the event, there was nobody wearing political colors, and there was no single program that outlined it.

Everyone was free to do as they will. Regular Joes were allowed to speak up on megaphones in place of political prospects and representatives; some were playing rock music and some toyed with tribal instruments; there were even families taking pictures and kids carrying balloons. Bring out some floats and confetti and you have an all-out street party.

My trainer and I circled the grandstand hoping to find color. Malaya sent men to cover the rally already--one was assigned to cover this aspect, one was assigned to cover that; I don't know the specifics but I was assigned to write about color--the overall atmosphere of the event.

My trainer led me to a press conference happening at the Manila Hotel. I stayed there while she went to find former Chief Justice Renato Corona--a controversial figure who was thrown out of the Supreme Court for "corruption." It was a posh lunch with VIPs speaking up front, one of them was former Senator Kit Tatad, and another was Fr. Robert Reyes. There were other speakers that told us how we are all victims of the pork barrel. About 15 minutes later, my trainer came to collect me and we headed back to the rally.

The weather which previously dampened us with occasional drizzles became a little better. On the bright side (ironically), the sun was absent and we were free to walk around without sweating like pigs. We walked down Roxas Boulevard and saw Willie Revillame and Gloria Diaz. I thought we should have moved closer but my trainer said she didn't want us to seem like groupees because journalists are equal with celebrities.

After interviewing a few groups, we went to Chowking for take-out and made our way back to the office. We were the only people there and the internet was shut down. My trainer however managed to connect with another signal but it was restricted to official members of the press. I needed some details from the internet so I waited quite a while for her to finish up and give me my turn to use the internet.

My story also took a while to write. I finished it at 5:30, counting more than 700 words. I handed it over for my trainer to edit and usual, it significantly sized down to about 500 words. She also rephrased and restructured a lot of paragraphs giving my article a newswriting facelift, telling me it might make the banner the next day. Finally, I called it a day but my trainer stayed in the office to write other stories.

I woke up the next morning and asked my mom to buy a copy of Malaya on her way home from work (she in the graveyard shift). I read it and yes, my story did make banner.

For journalists, it's a natural thing to make cover pages but for us interns, it's the rare thing to even make it to the front page, especially in a national broadsheet. But I made it.

8/27/2013. I'll always remember that day as the day I first made headlines. I'll save that issue of Malaya. What a pat on the back.

Day 2: It Pays To Be Punctual

Arriving late has been a constant issue for me ever since I graduated elementary. It must be my way of acting out for my lack of motivation to go to school. There were many times my parents were asked to meet my teachers because of my punctuality problem. 

When I entered college, all the trouble that came with arriving late seemed to disappear. My professors couldn’t care less. I’d come in an hour late for weeks and I wouldn’t hear one word about it from anybody.

But those were the good days. Last Thursday, I learned that my job as a journalist wouldn’t stand for it.

My trainer Gigi asked me to go to work at 11 o’clock, a couple of hours ahead of her and before anything newsworthy is likely to happen. She assigned me to cover the “Run-After-The-Smugglers” (RATS) press conference of the Bureau of Customs. She told me to follow the cameramen because they would be covering, too.

I arrived about 11:10 AM and the news crews have already set up their satellite dishes outside the National Bureau of Investigation which was just a couple of blocks from our office. I thought “Sheist! I might be running too late!”

I speed-walked to the press office and found that the cameramen have already left. I asked around for directions to the press conference and some guy from TV5 said that it was taking place right behind our building, so I stepped out of the office and circled the entire area our building is situated. I passed U.P. Manila, the Supreme Court, the NBI, the Court of Appeals, a train station, a very large private office, another U.P. Manila building, and there was still no sign of the press conference.

I headed back to the office for more specific directions when I came across a really friendly co-worker. He said that the press conference was taking place BEHIND OUR OFFICE—barely 20 steps away! I thanked him and skedaddled to the event where I saw Ruffy Biazon and other Bureau of Customs officials answering questions. There were a lot of cameras and I had no business with Mr. Biazon so I just asked for a press release and I was quickly handed one.

Phew. All that legwork had a point somehow.

I made my way back to the office and re-wrote the press release. I subtracted the usual political-sugar-coating and broke it down to less than 300 words. It’s nothing significant anyway—if a government body organizes a press conference, its only purpose is to improve its image—proving true the adage “Nothing worth having is easily obtained.”

I finished up before Gigi arrived and she cut fewer words from my work than she did in my first (which in my opinion is a total wreck.) Hm. I might be taking baby steps but I am improving.

She gave me another story to write but that time she told me I was free to feature-ize. I made a few grammatical errors but they were considerably fewer than my previous work. After submitting it to the Malaya network, Gigi said we could call it a day. It was 5:30 after all.

That day's lesson was it pays to be punctual. I never realized how time-sensitive journalism is until that day. I'm gonna have to find a fix for my punctuality glitch soon. In this profession, missing out is not an option.

First Day of Work at the Microscope Store

As some of you might already know, I was accepted for an internship with Malaya Business Insight: a national newspaper focused on business news and vicious technical terms. At first I really didn't know what to think. Do they even have a police beat? Will I be assigned to some executive place to write about stocks and figures? Or will I be assigned the lifestyle beat for an internship dream-come-true?

Let me say before anything that my mental attitude is whatever beat I'm assigned, I would gladly accept it. I made it in a national broadsheet! I'd say that's a lot better than some of my classmates who are now writing for vulgar tabloids and provincial newspapers.

I was assigned the Department of Justice beat, but since my trainer has a lot of other beats to handle, I'm looking forward to bounce around Manila over the course of my internship. Just yesterday I wrote a story from facts I obtained from the NBI. Next week, my trainer said we'll pay the Manila Police District a visit--that's where all my classmates are.

My first day was nothing out of the ordinary. I walked into an office where everybody was already friends and I sat quietly on a chair in a corner next to my trainer's station. I read some press releases to pass the time since my trainer was running a little late. I've never met my trainer before so I didn't know what to expect. All I knew was her name's Gigi and she worked for Malaya.

People at the press office were really noisy. They were talking about watching The Conjuring, the latest horror flick from Hollywood that's actually scary. There was also someone who was celebrating his birthday, and another someone who was bullied because she has a loose grip on her her temper; There was gay guy there who's the life of the party, a fat dude who's really friendly to everybody, and a quiet, nerdy man who works for the Business Mirror among other characters.

Ha. It's high school all over again.

Anyway, my trainer arrived about fifteen minutes later. After putting all her stuff down on her table she said that something was taking place at the Court of Appeals, which was only a couple of blocks from the press office. She brought me along and for the first time in my life, I experienced what it's like to scour for a story.

The mayor of Taguig counter-filed against Makati City for the controversial Fort Bonifacio. A few seconds after the mayor stepped outside the filing department, the press immediately gathered around her. Cameras, mics, and sweaty pressmen awaited her every comment. My trainer managed to ask a couple of questions herself and she jot down everything in her little notepad. I saw a TV reporter from ABS-CBN but I forgot her name.

When it was over, we walked back to the press office to write our stories. My trainer handed my a press release from the NBI. I was expecting it. I knew I was too inexperienced write about what just happened.

It took me an hour and a half to finish writing my story and I lent it to my trainer for editing. She cut it in half and made me change my lede. After I changed my lede, I lent it to her again and she further cut it--completely eliminating some sentences while changing some words to make it concise.

After she was done, my story looked like a bona fide newspaper article. Amazing. It's like she has microscopes for eyes. And to think that everybody in that office has the same, marami pa 'kong bigas na kakainin.

She said my style is fit for feature writing and that news writing is a different beast.

To be honest, news writing is really my weakness, that's why I applied for internships in magazines before resorting to newspapers. You have to be cold and to the point. There is no room for artsy words or fancy descriptions. You have to tell it like it is and move on. It's kind of like sex with a hooker as opposed to sex with an emotionally involved girlfriend.

And that's it. My first day of internship at the microscope store a.k.a. the Jucra Press Office.

I have to be back there again this morning but I'm covering an event alone. It's some kind smuggling run for the Bureau of Customs. Wish me luck!

From A Guy's Perspective: How To Be The Right Girl

There has been much ado on the internet about what it takes to be real man. Some say you have to open doors for a girl and pull up her chair when it's time to eat. Some say you have to strong-arm her into you because bad boys make good girls wet. Little do women know that as thoughtless as guys seem to be, we, too, are picky when it comes to the women we date. Well, speaking for us who can get laid.

There is no objective truth when talking about men's tastes in women. The broad genres the porn industry created over the years is proof of that; cinema, too. Korean men fancy their women wild but with a human side (see My Sassy Girl, My Girlfriend Is A Gumiho, Windstruck.) Japanese men like their women cultured and armed with refined tastes even in this modern time (watch Gokusen or any Jdorama and notice how women suddenly go from man-like to courtly in the presence of the man they want to date.) We Filipinos? We like our women vulnerable, hard-to-get, and generally stale. Watch any primetime teleserye and you'd be blind not to notice how women never take the lead, how they're constantly soaked in melodrama, and how they're the type the mean girls just can't get enough of.

So with all this in light, how do you become the right girl? The answers are simpler than you think.

1. You must love life. Have you ever heard guys in romance-dramas say "My life has changed since I met her."? Lines like these aren't totally bull after all. When you love life, you automatically bring positivity and good feelings to the man you're sharing your life with. Each time you go out with him, it'll be like he has escaped his problems for a moment and all his attention is focused on you. This is the greatest advice anyone can give you.

"Dave, how do I do this?" The love of life comes from the love of self. You must start living a healthy, balanced lifestyle: Exercise, go out with your friends, do your best at work or in your studies, and lead an honest life. Even if you're not physically dazzling, your love of life will make you beautiful from the inside. Here's a rhetorical question that's become cliche because there's so much truth in it: How can anybody love you, if you don't love yourself?

2. Be knowledgeable in at least one guy thing. Though women have made great strides over the years, and though it hurts a bit to hear it, it's still a man's world. Okay, settle down. Even if you disagree, it wouldn't hurt knowing a thing or two about a man's hobby. Be it whittling, hunting, Christopher Nolan, Silent Hill, or automobiles, it impresses a man to see how a woman has an inside track on his world. Want proof?

Megan Fox handles Bumblebee surprisingly well in the first Transformers. This scene alone makes the movie hotter than your average PG-13. Shia Labeouf agrees.

"Dave, how do I do this?" You may not know it yet, but you're already knowledgeable in at least one guy thing! What was the last action movie you watched? Go talk about it the next time you see him. What was the last rock or rap record you listened to? Bring it up next time. If you're comfy bringing up sex or martial arts, don't show off to much. It's embarrassing when we stammer you know.

3. Do not play games. Ever. There is a fine line between falling in love with your partner and falling in love with your insecurities. Playing games (or in Tagalog, "Nagpapa-miss ako." or "Pinagseselos ko lang siya.") is just a desperate cry for attention. Men may not have the same emotional quotient as most women do, but that's the fault in your stars: If a man notices you playing him and he's smart enough to swing back, there will be blood. Yours. Playa'.

"Dave, how do I do this?" It's better to re-evaluate things from the inside than having to resort to high school tactics. If you're already in a relationship, ask yourself if it's still on the right track. If you're single, then cool; you can still hang-out with other guys you enjoy spending time with. It's best to not take yourself too seriously, too. If you think you're somebody and you deserve his time while doing absolutely nothing, then you need to get in touch with reality. Do not make bad boys out of good men just because you feel left out.

4. Be ye confident. A lot of women think that we guys are supposed to come and fix their issues like it's what we do for a living. News flash: We are not your repairmen. You are supposed to stand strong on your own feet (hopefully with the help of friends and yourself.) Who run the world? Yeah. Welcome to the 21st century. If you don't go after what you want in the world of love, you're going to end up with weak-willed men. This advice could come across as harsh but the truth sometimes is bitter. Do you think Mila Kunis, Rihanna, and Kate Upton earned the praise of men by being insecure in their skin; acting twee-tums? Didn't think so.

"Dave, how do I do this?" Cleanse your thoughts from all negativity. From now on, no more self-loathing. Do you talk to yourself a lot throughout the day? Good. Count all the negative thoughts that cross your mind with your fingers. Whenever you raise a finger, force yourself to see the bright-side to that negative thought. Say, you drive up to a club with your girlfriends on a Saturday night. It's a full house and there's nowhere to park. What do you say to yourself? "Ugh. Crap. I've been looking forward to this night all week! Now I have to move to another club!" Raise a finger, pause for a moment, and think: "There's gonna be a lot of people there, so the roof will be on fire! Right on!" You don't have to join the rest of your friends in clamoring. Park on the curb and enjoy the night.

5. Do not be stale in bed. This is more like tip 4.5. Moving in the bedroom without inhibitions is the ultimate form of confidence and self-expression. Do not let your man do all the work. Even if a guy gets to bed a Miss Universe and all she did was wait for him to move, he'll feel like playing Monopoly alone. This is also a warning: Women often cheat because they don't feel emotionally fulfilled, men on the other hand, often cheat when their physical needs aren't met. What's worse than lying next to a statuette who moans and does nothing in return? It's like being unappreciated when you're most vulnerable.

"Dave, how do I do this?" If you're not ready, you're not ready. Stop thinking about it. Don't be afraid to say 'wait' or 'no' when asked to do the deed; it's supposed to come naturally. However, when you're ready to go anchors' away, here are a few simple tips to make it more exciting. Wear something seductive. Something lacy and almost see-through but not bear-all. When you're suited up, relax and let nature take its course. Give head, hand, foot, tongue--whatever you have in your arsenal. Listen to him and cater to what he wants, and if he's a decent lay, he'll cater to yours as well. Whole books are written on how to do it; there are literally a million ways. The more you do it, the better you get. (Wink).

That's it for now.