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Of cheesiness and/or bitterness.
People overusing the "less than" sign and the number 3. Friends exuding the aroma of dark, black coffee. Teddy bears shooting up in sales. Beer and alcohol shooting up in sales, following the rejection of aforementioned teddy bears. The repressed cheese trying to break down the walls of my amygdala in an attempt to flood the rest of my brain with its virus. Yep, it's that time of the year.
Unlike the few who revel in its celebration, and the many who look forward to its end, I never really attached myself to Valentine's enough to warrant a strong opinion on it. Sure, flowers may have been sent my way a couple of times before, and yes, I have experienced going through this day (literally and figuratively) alone, but I haven't really felt like I belonged to any one side of the social spectra this so-called holiday has divided us into. I was never the bitter, crying-in-one-corner-while-I-contemplate-on-jumping-off-a-cliff kind of girl and I shudder at the thought of being over-the-top mushy. It just isn't that big a deal for me. I'm the girl in the middle. The only thing I look forward to on February 14, really, is having an excuse to rape the replay button of the acoustic version of Panic! At The Disco's "Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" on Youtube.
Being someone's Girlnospacefriend somewhat thrusts you over to the "Must Celebrate and Be Romantic" side, however. Society coerces me into thinking that I should receive flowers, I should eat at an expensive restaurant, I should expect a surprise inside a cake or at the bottom of the champagne glass. But I won't. And I realize, in a relationship or not, Valentine's Day doesn't change its effect on me. I'm still in the middle ground. It's still just a day. A Monday. In fact, he has an exam tonight. I have an exam and a paper due tomorrow. The world doesn't stop on February 14.
But that doesn't mean I didn't add a couple of more asterisks to a particular emoticon or that I detest seeing any hearts today. That doesn't mean we won't see each other today to prove we're not that kind of couple. That doesn't mean I can't close my eyes and hope for an extra tight hug at the end of the day. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate the thought this holiday is really pushing for. Any day that makes people feel more grateful for having someone is not a bad day at all for me.
Maybe Valentine's is not about the flowers you get or the expensive dinner you eat. Maybe it's not about hating on the guys who didn't call. Maybe it's not even about your relationship status. Unlike most other holidays, Valentine's Day is fastened on such a human emotion. It's not about your god, or your country. It's about you: how you feel, where you are, what you want. Maybe for that alone, it should be a cause for celebration. Because for all 365 days of your busy year, this one forces you to look at yourself and think about where life has brought you. It's either you end up feeling thankful for having someone to hold your hand or you appreciate your independence (and awesome set of friends)- I think both ends are perfectly alright.
Here's to hoping your Facebook news feed gets just the right amount of cheesy and bitter today. Nobody wants overkill. Happy Valentine's!
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Of cheesiness and/or bitterness.
People overusing the "less than" sign and the number 3. Friends exuding the aroma of dark, black coffee. Teddy bears shooting up in sales. Beer and alcohol shooting up in sales, following the rejection of aforementioned teddy bears. The repressed cheese trying to break down the walls of my amygdala in an attempt to flood the rest of my brain with its virus. Yep, it's that time of the year.
Unlike the few who revel in its celebration, and the many who look forward to its end, I never really attached myself to Valentine's enough to warrant a strong opinion on it. Sure, flowers may have been sent my way a couple of times before, and yes, I have experienced going through this day (literally and figuratively) alone, but I haven't really felt like I belonged to any one side of the social spectra this so-called holiday has divided us into. I was never the bitter, crying-in-one-corner-while-I-contemplate-on-jumping-off-a-cliff kind of girl and I shudder at the thought of being over-the-top mushy. It just isn't that big a deal for me. I'm the girl in the middle. The only thing I look forward to on February 14, really, is having an excuse to rape the replay button of the acoustic version of Panic! At The Disco's "Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" on Youtube.
Being someone's Girlnospacefriend somewhat thrusts you over to the "Must Celebrate and Be Romantic" side, however. Society coerces me into thinking that I should receive flowers, I should eat at an expensive restaurant, I should expect a surprise inside a cake or at the bottom of the champagne glass. But I won't. And I realize, in a relationship or not, Valentine's Day doesn't change its effect on me. I'm still in the middle ground. It's still just a day. A Monday. In fact, he has an exam tonight. I have an exam and a paper due tomorrow. The world doesn't stop on February 14.
But that doesn't mean I didn't add a couple of more asterisks to a particular emoticon or that I detest seeing any hearts today. That doesn't mean we won't see each other today to prove we're not that kind of couple. That doesn't mean I can't close my eyes and hope for an extra tight hug at the end of the day. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate the thought this holiday is really pushing for. Any day that makes people feel more grateful for having someone is not a bad day at all for me.
Maybe Valentine's is not about the flowers you get or the expensive dinner you eat. Maybe it's not about hating on the guys who didn't call. Maybe it's not even about your relationship status. Unlike most other holidays, Valentine's Day is fastened on such a human emotion. It's not about your god, or your country. It's about you: how you feel, where you are, what you want. Maybe for that alone, it should be a cause for celebration. Because for all 365 days of your busy year, this one forces you to look at yourself and think about where life has brought you. It's either you end up feeling thankful for having someone to hold your hand or you appreciate your independence (and awesome set of friends)- I think both ends are perfectly alright.
Here's to hoping your Facebook news feed gets just the right amount of cheesy and bitter today. Nobody wants overkill. Happy Valentine's!
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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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