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Retail therapy.
My mom and I had a shopping date at 168 in Divisoria today. It's been quite some time since I last went shopping there. Oh, how I missed it! Nothing beats shopping at Divisoria; it is the ultimate shopping adventure -- from the relentless pursuit of the perfect item to the persistent haggling to the struggle with the crowd. The aisles never seem to end, and the stores never seem to run out of goods. The whole experience is enough to wipe anyone out to exhaustion. Ahh, it all sounds stressful. But ironically, there is a reason why it's called therapy - it's alleviating.
It's the Vistan gene. Me, my mom, and titas and lola from the mother's side are all shopaholics. We scour the streets of Divisoria, Bangkok, Singapore, and Bali for hours and hours on end with nothing but our inexorable desire to look for the best buys with us. (And yes, comfortable slippers.) Sometimes we start early (we get to 168 before 8:30) or sometimes we get there late (like in Bangkok's night markets) but whatever the time is, we're always ready to comb through all the stores with much gusto. It's a form of bonding for us. It's no wonder my lolo never complains about our shopping compulsion -- imagine, with him on a trip are five shopaholic girls. He's gotten very much used to it.
One thing about shopping is that it has a way of alleviating my neuroses. Like, after everything stressful and frustrating that has happened to me, when I get to buy something for myself that I know I worked hard for, it's rewarding. It makes me feel like I deserve something. It motivates me. I know it's wrong to be so materialistic, but for me, shopping isn't about amassing a huge amount of clothes for me to brag about. It's about giving myself something that makes me feel better. I guess it stems from the little principle my parents taught me that if you do good, then you deserve something good. If I have enough money and earned the right to reward myself, why shouldn't I shop?
But more than that, I think the satisfaction in shopping springs from the struggle. You find joy in not just buying for yourself, but in the actual pursuit for it. The search is what thrills you, like you're on a hunt for some secret treasure you have yet to discover. You enter a tiangge with no exact purchase in mind, just always with that feeling of "I know it when I see it." And you do. You find a glorious item on a stall and you just know you were meant to have it. You haggle with the saleslady, sometimes flattering them, sometimes feigning indifference, but always with the same goal in mind: to own it. And when at last you get to have it, when that plastic bag is finally in your hands, there's no greater feeling. You don't need anything else. (Or at least until the next cute item.)
Shopping is exhilarating, really.
I guess life is one big shopping adventure. We shop for the best experiences, find the greatest adventures, look for the perfect people. We never stop walking, never stop searching until we get that which we truly want. Because let's face it, settling for anything is never satisfying. We have to really comb through everything to get our heart's desires. And when we do get them, at no matter what cost, we know, we just know, that everything is going to be okay.
And why wouldn't everything be okay when you have the cutest blouse to start your summer with? :)
P.S. The best shopping buddy is always the Mom.
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Retail therapy.
My mom and I had a shopping date at 168 in Divisoria today. It's been quite some time since I last went shopping there. Oh, how I missed it! Nothing beats shopping at Divisoria; it is the ultimate shopping adventure -- from the relentless pursuit of the perfect item to the persistent haggling to the struggle with the crowd. The aisles never seem to end, and the stores never seem to run out of goods. The whole experience is enough to wipe anyone out to exhaustion. Ahh, it all sounds stressful. But ironically, there is a reason why it's called therapy - it's alleviating.
It's the Vistan gene. Me, my mom, and titas and lola from the mother's side are all shopaholics. We scour the streets of Divisoria, Bangkok, Singapore, and Bali for hours and hours on end with nothing but our inexorable desire to look for the best buys with us. (And yes, comfortable slippers.) Sometimes we start early (we get to 168 before 8:30) or sometimes we get there late (like in Bangkok's night markets) but whatever the time is, we're always ready to comb through all the stores with much gusto. It's a form of bonding for us. It's no wonder my lolo never complains about our shopping compulsion -- imagine, with him on a trip are five shopaholic girls. He's gotten very much used to it.
One thing about shopping is that it has a way of alleviating my neuroses. Like, after everything stressful and frustrating that has happened to me, when I get to buy something for myself that I know I worked hard for, it's rewarding. It makes me feel like I deserve something. It motivates me. I know it's wrong to be so materialistic, but for me, shopping isn't about amassing a huge amount of clothes for me to brag about. It's about giving myself something that makes me feel better. I guess it stems from the little principle my parents taught me that if you do good, then you deserve something good. If I have enough money and earned the right to reward myself, why shouldn't I shop?
But more than that, I think the satisfaction in shopping springs from the struggle. You find joy in not just buying for yourself, but in the actual pursuit for it. The search is what thrills you, like you're on a hunt for some secret treasure you have yet to discover. You enter a tiangge with no exact purchase in mind, just always with that feeling of "I know it when I see it." And you do. You find a glorious item on a stall and you just know you were meant to have it. You haggle with the saleslady, sometimes flattering them, sometimes feigning indifference, but always with the same goal in mind: to own it. And when at last you get to have it, when that plastic bag is finally in your hands, there's no greater feeling. You don't need anything else. (Or at least until the next cute item.)
Shopping is exhilarating, really.
I guess life is one big shopping adventure. We shop for the best experiences, find the greatest adventures, look for the perfect people. We never stop walking, never stop searching until we get that which we truly want. Because let's face it, settling for anything is never satisfying. We have to really comb through everything to get our heart's desires. And when we do get them, at no matter what cost, we know, we just know, that everything is going to be okay.
And why wouldn't everything be okay when you have the cutest blouse to start your summer with? :)
P.S. The best shopping buddy is always the Mom.
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She's a modern lover; it's an exploration, she's made of outer space
Hello, I'm Karla Bernardo. If you Google my name, you will find the Wikipedia entry of a Canadian serial-killer (and trust me, you do not want
to read about that - but I'm sure you will because now you're curious), which is why I suggest you type Bombastarr instead so you can stalk me better.
I spent eight-and-a-half years of my life in the University of the Philippines, where I graduated with degrees in Creative Writing and Juris Doctor. It is also where I learned how to speak a bit of Italian, got a taste of the best tapsilog, and took striptease for PE.
I love telling stories, as much as I enjoy finding them.
____Want more?
Featured Works
Stargirl ( Cover story for Nadine Lustre, Scout, January-February 2017)
Surreal / So Real (at Scout)
Ode to a Great Love's 17-year-old Self ( Love.Life, Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Postcard from Diliman
( Youngblood, Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Writer for Philippine Law Register
A Call to Arms (January 2017)
Expecting the Expected (March 2016)
Former Writer for Stache Magazine
The Hero's Journey (June 2013)
The 8 People You Become In Your Youth (June 2013)
The Best Bad Idea That Is Argo (April 2013)
Mike Ross Remembers Everything You Don't (August 2012)
Style Between the Riffs (August 2012)
Book Lovers Never Sleep Alone (June 2012)
A Spectrum of Change (December 2011)
Digital Art (October 2011)
Elements of Style (June 2011)
In Her White Dress (All-Art April 2011 issue)
Morning After Pill ( Fervore: Literary Folio 2013, UP Portia Sorority)
How To Make a Blueberry Cheesecake ( Kalas: Kalasag Literary Folio 2011, UP College of Arts and Letters)
January 14th ( 100: The Hundreds Project, UP Writer's Club)
An Ode to The
Pillow Book (at New-Slang)
Introductions (at TeenInk)
One by One (at TeenInk)
Ask, and you shall be answered
Got a comment, question, violent reaction, love letter, or random piece of information you want to share with me? Just fire away. I don't bite.
(I changed my form and went back to Freedback because Ask.fm's being a bitch, requiring people to sign up for accounts before asking questions. Because I love you guys, I tweaked my ask box a bit, so that the questions will now go directly to my e-mail, but I'll be posting the answers still on my Ask.fm for convenience. TL;DR - I'll still be getting your questions so no worries. You're still free to harass me / send me your love.)
Answers
Most Frequently Asked QuestionAre you a pornstar?No, I am not a pornstar, stripper, or your friendly neighborhood call girl. It's just a fancy pseudonym with a long history, and two R's. Rawr.
Bombastarr.com
Bombastarr is my personal blog and my little corner in the Internet since 2005. Yes, I started writing here when I was 13 years old (aka when I was very angsty, hormonal, and always gushing at the littlest things) -- ergo, you'd have to forgive me if you come across an old post that reeks of immaturity and slightly unpolished grammar. I did a lot of growing up here, and from the looks of it, there's still a lot of growing up to do, so I don't think I'll be leaving this place any time soon.
The domain, Bombastarr.com, was purchased on June 2014 and
launched on July 2014, on the blog's ninth year (and fifth month, to be exact).
It's crazy to think that this blog is now thirteen years old, because (1) that seems like an eternity in internet years, and (2) that means if my blog were a kid, it's a teenager! That's insane.
Here's to more tales, explosive and otherwise.
So, why Bombastarr?
If you've been living under a rock and think I'm a threat to world peace or an object of covetousness, sorry to disappoint you, folks: it's just a fancy pseudonym.
As in most things, it started in high school. It began as a joke between me and a couple of friends during our freshman year. We were practicing for a field demonstration dance which involved the use of shawls, and being the crazy-always-trying-to-be-funny person that I was (or I always attempted to be) I started doing poses with the garment. Someone started taking my picture using my phone, and one shot looked like I was posing for those B-list movies (or should it be R-list, as in R-rated?) of the vegetable-nomenclature variety. #IKYWIM. Hence, the word, "Bombastarr." Yes, very cheeky, I know, but for a 13-year-old, it was quirky enough to figure as a username. That was 2005, right around the time I trying to decide on a URL for a new blog. It's been a lot of years since, and what started as a joke became something I've eventually embraced as an identity.
Despite the many other chances I've gotten to permanently move (to Multiply, Livejournal, Tumblr, Wordpress; to a bigger platform where I can earn or use the blog as a venue for commerce), I've come to realize that Bombastarr is something I can never truly leave behind. It is a place I've grown to appreciate and love because it is a place I can call my own. It's a venue for my rants, my views, my writing. It is home, and it is who I am.
Bombastarr is a glimpse of my life: the thoughts, ideas, and stories that shape it into what it is, and what it will still become. This journal has been with me for all my crazy, often embarrassing adventures, but I'm sure there will be more anecdotes and feelings and people to write about. Which is something I'm really looking forward to. After all, you know what they say about the greatest stories - sometimes, there's still a lot that's left unwritten.
Credits and thank you's
This blog is hosted by PhilHosting.net, and powered by Blogger. The layout is coded entirely by me.
Photo hosting: TinyPic, Photobucket
Question box: EmailMeForm, Ask.fm
Copyright © BOMBASTARR
Elsewhere, she wanders
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