Lost and finding.
November 9, 2011
First year, first sem. I entered the wrong classroom on the first day of class.
Fourth year, second sem. I entered the wrong classroom on the first day of class.
I'd like to think this is probably the universe's way of giving me closure, or making me come full circle - coming together with how I commenced, closing with how it opened, ending where I began - the whole shebang.
I could always wax metaphoric and say that if my life were a short story, that little running motif of getting lost in class would have been an effective literary device. It could be symbolic of how the character, despite having been in the university for four years, is still only under the illusion that she has found her way - that the people she had met, the things she had learned, the words she had said do not mean anything in the grander scheme of things, for she is still but a lost little girl looking for the right direction. That the idea of graduating only means getting a piece of paper, not discovering one's true purpose. The meaning of everything is still somewhere, possibly written in your Form 5 or somewhere in your head, hidden by the trees or masquerading in the sky, but it's not entirely visible and still remains to be found. Getting lost in the beginning and getting lost even in the end is indicative of how uncertain everything still is - even when your status says graduating, even when your affections have been affirmed, even when your dreams have been set on stone.
Of course, this isn't a short story, and reading a little bit too much into things is just one of the side effects of being a literature major. For all I know it could only be indicative of my lack of sleep or Oreos, or both.
But then again, that's why I am where I am. The thing with writing is that it gives you the illusion of control over a certain kind of reality, and often that spills out of the page and into your own. And if that means believing in a greater recurring narrative just to make myself feel better (and less ashamed - because dear God, this happened to me and I'm already a senior!) then why the hell not?
Second sem, let's see what you got.
Labels: UP
&
Newer› ‹Older
Lost and finding.
November 9, 2011
First year, first sem. I entered the wrong classroom on the first day of class.
Fourth year, second sem. I entered the wrong classroom on the first day of class.
I'd like to think this is probably the universe's way of giving me closure, or making me come full circle - coming together with how I commenced, closing with how it opened, ending where I began - the whole shebang.
I could always wax metaphoric and say that if my life were a short story, that little running motif of getting lost in class would have been an effective literary device. It could be symbolic of how the character, despite having been in the university for four years, is still only under the illusion that she has found her way - that the people she had met, the things she had learned, the words she had said do not mean anything in the grander scheme of things, for she is still but a lost little girl looking for the right direction. That the idea of graduating only means getting a piece of paper, not discovering one's true purpose. The meaning of everything is still somewhere, possibly written in your Form 5 or somewhere in your head, hidden by the trees or masquerading in the sky, but it's not entirely visible and still remains to be found. Getting lost in the beginning and getting lost even in the end is indicative of how uncertain everything still is - even when your status says graduating, even when your affections have been affirmed, even when your dreams have been set on stone.
Of course, this isn't a short story, and reading a little bit too much into things is just one of the side effects of being a literature major. For all I know it could only be indicative of my lack of sleep or Oreos, or both.
But then again, that's why I am where I am. The thing with writing is that it gives you the illusion of control over a certain kind of reality, and often that spills out of the page and into your own. And if that means believing in a greater recurring narrative just to make myself feel better (and less ashamed - because dear God, this happened to me and I'm already a senior!) then why the hell not?
Second sem, let's see what you got.
Labels: UP
&
Newer› ‹Older
Look for the girl with the broken smile.
Karla Bernardo goes to the University of the Philippines, where she is soon to graduate with a degree in Creative Writing, because she likes books enough to want to write them.
She is currently a features writer for Stache Magazine and has had her work featured on New-Slang. Her late nights often consist of intense lovemaking with Oreos and
passionate trysts with many strange, interesting (but very fictional) men. Her bookshelves are in dire need of repair. She enjoys scribbling letters in cursive, and wishes
that the interrobang be brought back from extinction because much like this punctuation mark, she finds thrill in the questioning. She has the tendency to get too attached
to song lyrics, especially those of Stars, Metric, and Deftones. She thinks it’s amusing that if you Google her name, you will find the Wikipedia entry for a Canadian serial
killer – which is why she suggests you just type
Bombastarr instead, so you can stalk her better through her blog of seven years (and counting).
If you've been living under a rock and think
Bombastarr is a threat to world peace or an object of covetousness, well get with the program, it's called a
colloquial metaphor.
She's kind of explosive. (Which just her
fanciful way of saying she is filled with angst-ridden emotions and rollercoaster-like mood swings, aka raging hormones.)
Want
more?
Featured Works
Writer at
Stache Magazine
A Spectrum of Change (December 2011)
Digital Art (October 2011)
Elements of Style (June 2011)
In Her White Dress (All-Art April 2011 issue)
Introductions (at
TeenInk)
One by One (at
TeenInk)
An Ode to The
Pillow Book (at
New-Slang)
Elsewhere
I'm pretty much everywhere, except Tumblr. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm a Blogger baby forever.
karlabernard0
Facebook
Gmail
Multiply
