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A Very Clingy Greeting.
I've been trying to begin this paragraph for about an hour now but so far the only thing I've gotten out of it is the vertical blinking cursor judging me for the lack of anything of substance. It's been looking at me, judging me intently, with a kind of questioning glance that said, "How can you not say anything to Andee?" You see, therein lies the problem. Yes, there are so many things I can say to you. In fact, I cannot think of anything that we cannot talk about. We have talked about the weather and sex and post-structuralism and milk tea and boys and their jackets and yet I feel like there is still so much we have not touched. Like lipsticks. Or donkeys and horses and other farm animals. But then I am reminded of a particular person who turned pretty with makeup on and who is vaguely tangential to a donkey reference, and I think, "Oh God, maybe we have talked about everything."
Also, we have been together for roughly the last four years. And I think that for every single day of those four years, not counting the weekends and holidays and vacations, we've seen each other. That means around 220 days a year of being physically together (yeah, I did some math - don't ask), and that's not counting our texts and chats. That means it's been 880 days of talking in person and a total of 1460 days communicating with each other since we met. That also means I see you more often than I do my parents.
That's a lot.
So, why then, am I finding this extremely difficult? It's not that I don't have anything to say or that we haven't been seeing each other enough. Clearly I can say anything whenever, wherever.
I guess it all boils down to the fact that for all our 1460 days together, I have never written you a letter.
Now before you say anything, this isn't about my thesis. I won't be using this as a manuscript, don't worry.
We all know a letter is a very intimate conversation with anyone, enclosed in the exclusivity of the paper and the envelope. It possesses a distinctiveness in that anything that transpires in it is only between the receiver and the sender. It is affirming on some degree to the relationship between the two. But the one thing that distinguishes a letter from a regular conversation is that it's one-way. It's just the "I" talking to the "you," - it never answers back.
And I guess this is what stumps me. I can't imagine talking to you without you laughing or throwing me that look of annoyance or slapping me - anything, anything from you. I think we've gotten to that cliched point of finishing each other's sentences, or more accurately, completing each other's expressions of amusement. It just isn't a talk with you without me throwing you a Karla face all of a sudden or you raising your eyebrows in a sinister way.
Wow. I never thought of all people, you would be the most difficult to write to.
I hope this doesn't make you love me any less or take away my title as your Most Clingy Friend. I swear if I could just write you a decent letter that would so much as stir your goosebumps, I would have done that much sooner. But I can't, and to tell you frankly, I'd rather not. Because if anything, that only affirms how close we really are, that not even the separation brought upon by a piece of paper can come between us. There is no space for a letter, because there is nothing a letter can contain that we cannot share in person.
And besides, I'd rather not write you a letter because it's sure to sound cheesy and needy and clingy and I'm just not like that. (Ha! See, I can imagine you rolling your eyes!) So you know what, I'm not gonna write you a letter.
("Stop trying to make a letter happen! It's not going to happen!" - obligatory Mean Girls reference)
I am going to post this picture though, just to show you how I think we're both gonna react if I said all this in person.
I love you, and there is no one else I would have spent my entire college life with. I've always found comfort in our closeness, and I pray that even if the actual, physical nearness were to change, the familiarity wouldn't. So I hope I won't get to have a reason to ever write you a letter, because truth be told, I'd rather always have you in person.
Happy birthday, Andee! :)
________________________________________________________________
A Very Clingy Greeting.
I've been trying to begin this paragraph for about an hour now but so far the only thing I've gotten out of it is the vertical blinking cursor judging me for the lack of anything of substance. It's been looking at me, judging me intently, with a kind of questioning glance that said, "How can you not say anything to Andee?" You see, therein lies the problem. Yes, there are so many things I can say to you. In fact, I cannot think of anything that we cannot talk about. We have talked about the weather and sex and post-structuralism and milk tea and boys and their jackets and yet I feel like there is still so much we have not touched. Like lipsticks. Or donkeys and horses and other farm animals. But then I am reminded of a particular person who turned pretty with makeup on and who is vaguely tangential to a donkey reference, and I think, "Oh God, maybe we have talked about everything."
Also, we have been together for roughly the last four years. And I think that for every single day of those four years, not counting the weekends and holidays and vacations, we've seen each other. That means around 220 days a year of being physically together (yeah, I did some math - don't ask), and that's not counting our texts and chats. That means it's been 880 days of talking in person and a total of 1460 days communicating with each other since we met. That also means I see you more often than I do my parents.
That's a lot.
So, why then, am I finding this extremely difficult? It's not that I don't have anything to say or that we haven't been seeing each other enough. Clearly I can say anything whenever, wherever.
I guess it all boils down to the fact that for all our 1460 days together, I have never written you a letter.
Now before you say anything, this isn't about my thesis. I won't be using this as a manuscript, don't worry.
We all know a letter is a very intimate conversation with anyone, enclosed in the exclusivity of the paper and the envelope. It possesses a distinctiveness in that anything that transpires in it is only between the receiver and the sender. It is affirming on some degree to the relationship between the two. But the one thing that distinguishes a letter from a regular conversation is that it's one-way. It's just the "I" talking to the "you," - it never answers back.
And I guess this is what stumps me. I can't imagine talking to you without you laughing or throwing me that look of annoyance or slapping me - anything, anything from you. I think we've gotten to that cliched point of finishing each other's sentences, or more accurately, completing each other's expressions of amusement. It just isn't a talk with you without me throwing you a Karla face all of a sudden or you raising your eyebrows in a sinister way.
Wow. I never thought of all people, you would be the most difficult to write to.
I hope this doesn't make you love me any less or take away my title as your Most Clingy Friend. I swear if I could just write you a decent letter that would so much as stir your goosebumps, I would have done that much sooner. But I can't, and to tell you frankly, I'd rather not. Because if anything, that only affirms how close we really are, that not even the separation brought upon by a piece of paper can come between us. There is no space for a letter, because there is nothing a letter can contain that we cannot share in person.
And besides, I'd rather not write you a letter because it's sure to sound cheesy and needy and clingy and I'm just not like that. (Ha! See, I can imagine you rolling your eyes!) So you know what, I'm not gonna write you a letter.
("Stop trying to make a letter happen! It's not going to happen!" - obligatory Mean Girls reference)
I am going to post this picture though, just to show you how I think we're both gonna react if I said all this in person.
I love you, and there is no one else I would have spent my entire college life with. I've always found comfort in our closeness, and I pray that even if the actual, physical nearness were to change, the familiarity wouldn't. So I hope I won't get to have a reason to ever write you a letter, because truth be told, I'd rather always have you in person.
Happy birthday, Andee! :)
________________________________________________________________
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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