"Virgin ka pa ba?" and the Art of Small Talk

"Virgin ka pa ba?" translates to "Are you still a virgin?" here in the Philippines.

If you're new to dating, consider this article an advanced warning of an awkward situation due on your third or fourth date. But why is this so--that as colonially influenced as we Filipinos are (see K-pop, Vans, Twilight, or the Otaku Culture)--we tend to view virginity like the answer to a million-dollar question? I myself have been asked that more times than I could count. Sooner or later (assuming you're an adolescent), you're gonna find yourself in front of this question, too. I even know people who observe at how other people walk to judge if their v card's still in. What makes a Filipino weigh virginity as if it's something to hold with or against a partner? Does being deflowered at a young age mean you're foul or cheap? How do you answer when you're asked the question?

Generally, the Philippines is a Catholic country. Through the invasion of the Protestant Americans and the Shintoist Japanese, we Filipinos have retained what the Spanish inculcated in our culture for more than three centuries--Catholicism. Promiscuity and premarital sex has always been viciously looked upon, this is why the missus vs. the mistress plot is so fresh and new to the film industry. Sex is a capital sin in most religions: if the world was to unite under one religion which approved of euthanasia, they'd probably hang the pimps and vixens after the murderers and child molesters. Some groups even remove parts of the genitalia to prevent men and women from "sinning," and the RH Bill, as easy as it appeals to the common sense, was heavily debated by the brightest minds of our country.

On the other hand, it holds true that fleshly desires can at times develop to sickening barbarities. Gang rapes, cuckolding, home-wrecking, and the TV show Personalan are just a few among other corrupted deeds. Remember Kanye and Kim? The Philippines has them, too, only in the form of Hayden and Katrina. But to Dr. Hayden Kho, a sex video with one of the Philippines' sexiest could up his beer buddies' esteem of him. But to Katrina, well, he was married so for her it was really a crime of passion. To Kanye, listen to his music (and hip-hop in general). What do you get? Money, cars, I don't use a condom, money, money, cars. To Kim, well she's kind of a household name in scandals so let's not delve into her. She's not that big a thing to Filipinas anyway.

In the metro, porn DVDs run thick in the stands. You could buy one in the local market for P40 (about $0.90): For being cheap and accessible, it's now a multimillion peso underground industry. Soft-core pornography are screened all over the cheap theaters along Recto, Ermita, and other centers of commerce in Manila. FHM, Uno, and Maxim have been making a fortune here long since and gravure books are becoming a welcome form of literature. People judge all things under the influence of a culture, so far as Maria Clara is concerned, she could bid her ankle-long skirts goodbye. The Philippines isn't exactly a nation of playboys and tramps but tell someone who doesn't go out much how awesome last night was with your girlfriend and you'll be judged like one.

Parents get nervous if their eighteen-year-olds are still out past 10, even if it's a 110 degrees outside, long pants are never out of season for teenagers, a little PDA will lead you down a long road in the eyes of the passers-by, and if you're not a social commando, you better be careful not to tell anyone you "Party all night." The Filipino social stigma is so judgmental, it's a joke. If you're a girl, you're either a slut or a cheap shot if you don't save it for your wedding night.

Maybe this is just me, but believing how premarital sex causes the real thing to lose "its true meaning" is cliche and ridiculous. This is why so many Filipinos suffer midlife crisis. To the Filipino woman, a man doesn't have sex with her unless he's willing to sacrifice his soul and a lifetime of freedom and happiness for it. And to the Filipino Juan, sex is the pinnacle of a married relationship. It doesn't come with being a bachelor, it's a blessing from marriage. He's going to take good care of the kids, pay all the mortgages, and put on clothes he doesn't even like so Maria Clara would warm up to him; all the while mistaking which head is thinking. It may sound a little Freudian, but a part of all we do relates to our desire to be attractive. Nivea, Maybelline, Garnier, Dove, and the entire liquor, R&B, and self-help industry is built on it.

In the end, sex is just another thing that makes us human. We can't all be celibates. Like a good view, a menthol cigarette, a pleasant fabric softener or a hot meal, it's something we don't need like water and air but is still a plus to have around, though not to the point that life is useless without it.

So how do you answer the question? Simple: if it's a yes, it's a yes, if it's a no, it's a no. That's the art of small talk. The question measures the value of the questioner as opposed to measuring the questionee's. Answer straight and be sure of yourself. If your date looks down and then the other way, let him/her. You want a new partner, not someone to prove yourself to.

An Overly Elaborated Description of My Social Colors

"Alam mo, kung isang araw nawala ka, parang walang makakaalam. (You know, if one day you disappear, it's like no one would notice.)" This is something Daphney said to me a couple of years back. I formed a habit of wandering off on my own back then; she said this as I walked her back to the classroom. I bumped into her on my way back alone from the canteen. Back then, we were much closer. She'd give me advice on how to handle my struggling love life and you know me, I'd never fail to disappoint her. But we'd laugh it off in the end. 

Still, I can't explain the reason we grew apart. Not just me and her, but me and her friends, too. The same goes with all the groups of friends I've been part of.

Today, I hit a similar note with my present clique. Our professor gave us a lot of beats (places to sort information from) to cover for a requirement. We're assigned to at least 10 different agencies, so they set up an early rendezvous at 7 AM. I set my cell phone to alarm five times, two minutes apart to force me up. But today, I woke up to the sound of it vibrating--vibrating--I forgot to switch it off silent mode. On the screen, was the name of a friend calling me for the 6th time. It was 8:45 AM. Needless to say I missed today's excursion and they're all fucking pissed.

So here I am, doing away with the sentences in my head. I really let them down. But what better way to make it up than to pucker them up with flattery when they're all barking mad? Promise to never be late again but fail to deliver then repeat it the coming month, sending all my credibility down the drain? Wait. That could actually work! But I'll give the former a shot.

Here we are: Carabao and Friends. The leanest, meanest, hand-sanitizer-depleting machines in all of COC*. Most of us (particularly me), came from other dissolved cliques in the classroom. We're block sectioned; if you don't know what that means, picture high school all over again, only with less UNO cards and more grade-obsessed freaks.

Here's a run at who we are.

On the leftmost corner, you'll find what is probably the cutest creature ever conceived: an Epper. In the early days of our group, she was totally nondescript. In fact, an "Epper Minute" was put to effect--a minute when she was urged to speak at least a few words a day. She was that quiet. But as the months wore on, she grew more comfortable and finally acted normal (in a sense.) Now, she's even more adorable, playing all her silly antics on me just for a free treat. I simply write her off with a little pinch in the cheek, a kiss on the nose, and some days, an enormous freaking slap.

Moving on, you could--sir? What are you... May I--please, sir! Show some etiquette. That's not a chimpanzee, that's Gab! NSPC-placer Gab! Stop it with the pokes. No, I mean it. You--oh, man she's up. Oh... man. Oh, no. Oh--who put this banana in my boxers?! No, no! Down girl! Down girl!! AHH!! FU--

 

...And we're back. Sorry for the delay folks, they had to reattach my torso to my pelvis. So, back on topic, Gab is one of the most reliable confidantes there are. Whenever our schedules align, we take eight stations worth of time together (not to mention another 45 minutes or so waiting for a ride) home. I diverge my secrets to her on the regular. Now I know what you're thinking. Have I ever thought about having sex with her? The answer is no. I don't have to. It's another thing we have on the regular. *Grin.* Kidding aside though, she's kind of a big deal far as journalism goes. She's was a topper at the NSPC in news writing. She's never late for school, seldom misses a requirement, and thinks about 'being productive' the instant she wakes up. She's also constantly in the honor rolls and might be running for cum laude next year. Slowly but surely, this overpowering loudmouth is making her place in this world.

Third picture from the left is Charisma. And no, I don't think that duckface in intentional. A former classmate called her a buffalo once, which translates to "Kalabaw" or "Carabao" in Tagalog, hence the name of our group. Being the firstborn of a policeman and a court stenographer, she's the dominant personality among us. I seldom dare take shots at her; she always has a better comeback. She pairs braces with plunging necklines in school and gets away with it! Far as academics go, she's anal-retentive. I remember her crying from a grade of 2.5... or was it 2.25? Her house is situated in some remote corner of Bulacan so there's always an Indiana Jones feel to visiting (for food. Lots of it. Cooked by her mom who would someday take me in as a son.) We're really close but I keep her at arm's length. I never know when she's gonna bite... or punch, or elbow, or kick, or hit me in the nuts with a fan. But no matter how harassing she is, she's someone I could easily approach and someone who could easily approach me. I won't forget how she once cried on my shoulders. On normal mornings, I'd just gobble down her food and not talk to her for the rest of the day. On slow-going days, I'd pinch her on the cheek and mess up her hair for depressing me with stories of her love life. She's bisexual, by the way.

The black and white picture, third from the right, is Erika. Erika, whom I am at a loss of words to describe. She's kind of an excommunicant who still calls me up from time to time. That's... who I assume is her boyfriend beside her in the pic. Before Carabao and Friends, there was Charisma and Erika. Best friends who love feeling like they've known each other all their lives as they isolate themselves in swimming class. They were even married in Facebook. But everything went sour when Erika transferred to UP, and continued to be so until their friendship eventually languished. At one point, I also felt she was my best friend, too. She's the only classmate I've ever invited home. We could walk drunk for miles holding hands without the slightest hint of sensuality or malice. Wherever she is tonight, I hope she's happy with how things turned out for her.

Onto the second rightmost picture: the only man (still in question), aside me, in the group: Kent! In our ranks, he's a bit of an underling. But his upside is anyone could tell him anything and trust him with it. He's one of the few people I'm comfortable letting my guard down with. He's with his mom in the picture, Tita Shei, and with his sister, the cute yet somewhat evil Ykai. He has never seen his dad but he keeps good sense of a tightly-knit family. I know more about him than all of the people above. We share a common enthusiasm for Tekken and fooling people into believing we're shallow wastes of oxygen as a protective mechanism. He has an incessant habit of poking me, punching me and stepping on my shoes--by incessant, I mean really incessant. He does it all day, all year 'round. But he's a good friend (with almost perfect grammar.) His simple, child-like views of the world make him unique. Eyes of A Child is partly inspired by him.

The last man in the picture is me. But I think I've talked enough.

In five years or so, I'll be seeing these names in bylines, how-to books, magazines, ending credits, business cards, and who knows, maybe even television.

And in fifteen years or so, if Facebook is still 'in,' I'm gonna be seeing their wedding pictures all over my news feed. Damn, that would be so cliche.

In the years to come, I could have collected a more sophisticated pallet. But these people are my base colors. My first coat. Their traces under my skin would never fade. To the future Dave who must have had the remote impulse to read this 15 years from now, these are your roots. I hope life turned out better for you than how you saw it when you were writing this.

To whom it may concern and to whom it may not,

The blog you are reading has an audience of 3 at the moment. Yes, Eyes of a Child only appears on three peoples' dashboards and is blatantly unkempt, considering this being the second post in a span of over a month. But look what it got us.

21 posts with over 2000 page views! Who knew people are this careless on the internet, stumbling over this blog and all? So, Dave, that loudmouthed insomniac with narcissistic tendencies, give you all his heartfelt and earnest thanks for keeping his blog alive. More posts are to come so sit tight, readers!

Kidding. Take cover.

Speaking in third person,

Dave.

Dave's Top Picks: Chillout

First, a few terms you may find unintelligible (Unintelligible. n., difficult or impossible to understand). Not to sound like a wise-ass, but there is little chance a regular Juan would bother to have a more-than-average reservoir of musical terms; especially now that our culture refers to One Direction as the new EBTG*.

Chillout or chill-out music is one of the least known branches of the electronic music genre. It's almost a given that when you dive into the chill-out music industry, unless you're Da Vinci kind of talented, there is no way of making it into the mainstream. Chillout is commonly used when a rave is coming to a close. Characterized by long, smooth, and repetitive loops, it's like a designer drug you take in the ear to soothe your nerves. Most tracks in this genre are called tunes, not songs, as they tend have little to no lyrics. Personally, I use them to put myself to sleep.

Sub-genres include: Lounge, Easy Listening, Nu Jazz, Ambient House, Downtempo and Trip-hop.

A rave is a gathering of people from a part of a city or town who have one, single agenda: to dance themselves away. Raves are commonly underground and are held in private club rooms or more commonly, an unoccupied building without any kind of permission. When the cops come, it's every raver for himself. Your chances of getting a ticket is based on how well connected you are with fellow ravers. Otherwise you'd just have to hope no one's guarding the back door. Raves are most of the time associated with illegal drugs, casual sex, alcohol, break dancing, and fights. They are commonly hosted by an emcee who introduces deejays or bands that play. When a DJ or a band becomes successful that they start to pack thousands of people in an appearance, they play in legally held events and not in raves. A good example is Swedish House Mafia.

Remixes are done by a producer or a deejay to add his own touch to a tune while retaining its original elements. For example, a deejay can change a tune's beat, key, and chord pattern but the melody and message should remain the same; when alteration is done more insomuch that it changes the tune to a degree no longer recognizable from the original, that's theft of intellectual property.

Edits are complete version of tunes that are taken from a different source other than a studio or a record label. This is commonly done in unreleased tracks where a radio station is authorized to record as the artists play them live. Edits are usually lo-fi. Sometimes, you can even hear a commercial finishing up before a track plays.

Alright! Now that we're done with the technical part, let's get down to the nitty-gritty. Here are my top 5 Chillout tracks. (If you're still hung up on technicalities, they aren't actually "mine," I discovered them on my quest for a magic Slurpee across the milkyway and decided I should play them on Earth.)

Top 5:

The Ramona Flowers - Dismantle and Rebuild (D/R/U/G/S Remix)

The record starts with creepy, incomprehensible whispers on a synth background. Then comes an even creepier distorted guitar lick, which after fading, sends the tune underway. The keyboards kicked in with a faded-energy progression that enveloped the entire track. This tune is a perfect play when everyone is boozed enough to dance naked. Its wild but mellowed down vibe prevents them from doing so while keeping them on the floor. Look on the bright side: as far as reputations and your future parties go, it's a win-win.

Top 4:

Owl City - Hello Seattle (Remix)

Okay, I'll admit this one's a little biased. It isn't chillout at all. It's more of electropop blended with a little trance. But heck, I'm a big Adam Young fan so here it is. If you're familiar with how Hello Seattle originally sounds, this version is a whole new experience. It opens quiet, slow, and atmospheric. Almost like something from a cancer-drama movie. The tune then builds up a 4/4 dance beat (sigh), a rhythm section, and finally, the standard Owl City vocal-echo ending. All in all, this tune is like a colorful tour of the ocean.

Top 3:

Flight Facilities ft. Giselle - Crave You

This one's actually a song, complete in lyric and melody. In all the records that graced my ears, this one's probably the sexiest. Flight Facilities' steady and calm approach to the synth and basslines provided this song the ability to make you hate having to dance to it alone--preferably naked, in your room. The beats are plain; nothing to write home about but they fit in just right. The lyrics are of a young woman carrying a torch and are akin to a (far) more artistic female version of The Script-meets-One Direction.

Top 2:

Tycho - Hours

This track has an unexplainable ability to send a person inside a daydream--and a vivid one at that. It's so good, it makes it mystifying how Skrillex's mechanical-testosterone antics made the Grammy's while guys like Tycho remain independent recluses. In this 5:45 minutes of ear sugar, Tycho translates time to music without trying to go all Picasso. And boy, has it paid off. The whole track is a smooth walk across the shoreline or a quiet drive in the night. And, oh, if you're planning to make it past second base tonight, buy some harmonic-colored lampshades, put this on and you're good to go.

Top 1:

Blue Foundation - This Is Goodbye

After listening to this track, I think we both can agree it ends too freaking early. This song soothes down the tensest nerves and the sulkiest frowns--it could very well be the epitome of escapism. But take note, this song is about a relationship past the verge of failure (it's one of my ultimate post-breakup songs). It's also from an extended play entitled "Dead People's Choice," and the house on the EP cover is probably a haunted house. I know artsy symbols are at play here, but with a track this good I can't help but to shed no care. The song is trip-hop with shoegaze and modern classical elements, so it's tailor-made for your earphones, not for blaring party stereos. Though it sounds quite messy the first couple of listens, it begins to grow on you as you listen more. It can pull you to sleep or awaken you to dream--see, it doesn't really matter which.