|
O Perfect Day
A report I did for our CL150 class (Philippine Literature in English) is on "O Perfect Day" by Estrella Alfon. In a nutshell, it's about Bebe and her struggle to write about happy moments, a particular summer day in particular. Her friend Inday's sister comes home from Manila, and it becomes a reunion of sorts for family and friends as they fetch her at the terminal. Bebe narrates the events of that day - the teenagers singing on the bus, boys teasing the girls, girls laughing at the boys, dancing at the living room after getting home, eating a hearty lunch, going to a picnic by the river later in the afternoon, feelings admitted, feelings unreturned - a lot of things, really, one that you would expect of a youthful rural summer.
But in small doses, there is a glimpse of Bebe's fears amidst all the glee: both of writing about this perfect day, and about all this perfection in general. The first one, which allows the piece to be metafictional in a way, is actually the impetus for the entire story. When a friend of hers points out that she can never write a happy story because all her other works are mostly sad and depressing, Bebe is challenged. Because she did enjoy everything they did and considers them cheerful enough to be remembered in a story, she tries to recount them for a friend (Inday's sister) to whom she seems like she is writing a letter. This explains the overwhelming detail and her conscious effort to write as many jovial anecdotes as possible.
On a deeper, more intrinsic level however is the desire to tell this story, not just to prove that she can write a happy one, but because of the acknowledgement that this perfect time in their lives is fleeting. They are almost at the prime of their adolescence - where the future gleams brightly, the opportunities are ripe, and feelings are waiting to be explored. They are all juniors and seniors in high school, presumably, and they are all at the threshold of being kids and adults. Everything that lies ahead of them is promising, yet very much uncertain. This fear is further underscored by the mention of her nightmares of drowning in a pool. Everyone else seems to be enjoying a swim, especially her other girl friends and their mothers, but she remains on the shallow end, shivering in cold fear. It may be symbolic of her reluctance and hesitation to grow up - what if she gets drowned, what she never gets out alive, what if she doesn't enjoy it? What if things don't get as perfect as this again?
Why am I talking about this?
Lately I've been having a lot of "perfect days" that are (unfortunately) being left unwritten. Or not encapsulated enough in the few words I try to do so. Much like Bebe, the urge to write about them is not just about putting my writing skills to good use, but also trying to take these pieces of my life and have them down on paper for myself and everyone else to remember by. But more imperative, I think, is my apprehension of the future too - the same reluctance to leave behind this comforting, wonderful, ideal world. How could it get any better than this, being a college senior in a prestigious university with a highly regarded course? I'm uncomfortable about this "perfection" because I know I may have to leave it. I'm on the brink of everything. This is the tipping point now, the climax. And things can only go better or downhill from here. It's inevitable.
Bebe battles out the worry by just writing ahead anyway. The very acknowledgment of her fear is, also perhaps, a way of defeating it. I should take my cue from her, I guess. So what if the story doesn't completely sum up the perfect day? So what if things are probably not going to get as good as this? At least I'd have it on paper - or on this case, online. After all, if it's as perfect as I claim it to be, then a few words should be enough. Maybe, I don't need the complete picture to relive it all anyway, just the feeling that comes with it.
--
All this comes after a string of conversations, dates, and random bonding moments with many friends. It's fascinating how all these are happening at this time of the year, when we're all needing the comfort from people who know us the most and people who are going through the exact same things (aka hell weeks, thesis, graduation). Over siomai, cereals, or milk teas, we just talk and laugh and remember, and it's always enough. More than enough, even. O perfect days.
________________________________________________________________
O Perfect Day
A report I did for our CL150 class (Philippine Literature in English) is on "O Perfect Day" by Estrella Alfon. In a nutshell, it's about Bebe and her struggle to write about happy moments, a particular summer day in particular. Her friend Inday's sister comes home from Manila, and it becomes a reunion of sorts for family and friends as they fetch her at the terminal. Bebe narrates the events of that day - the teenagers singing on the bus, boys teasing the girls, girls laughing at the boys, dancing at the living room after getting home, eating a hearty lunch, going to a picnic by the river later in the afternoon, feelings admitted, feelings unreturned - a lot of things, really, one that you would expect of a youthful rural summer.
But in small doses, there is a glimpse of Bebe's fears amidst all the glee: both of writing about this perfect day, and about all this perfection in general. The first one, which allows the piece to be metafictional in a way, is actually the impetus for the entire story. When a friend of hers points out that she can never write a happy story because all her other works are mostly sad and depressing, Bebe is challenged. Because she did enjoy everything they did and considers them cheerful enough to be remembered in a story, she tries to recount them for a friend (Inday's sister) to whom she seems like she is writing a letter. This explains the overwhelming detail and her conscious effort to write as many jovial anecdotes as possible.
On a deeper, more intrinsic level however is the desire to tell this story, not just to prove that she can write a happy one, but because of the acknowledgement that this perfect time in their lives is fleeting. They are almost at the prime of their adolescence - where the future gleams brightly, the opportunities are ripe, and feelings are waiting to be explored. They are all juniors and seniors in high school, presumably, and they are all at the threshold of being kids and adults. Everything that lies ahead of them is promising, yet very much uncertain. This fear is further underscored by the mention of her nightmares of drowning in a pool. Everyone else seems to be enjoying a swim, especially her other girl friends and their mothers, but she remains on the shallow end, shivering in cold fear. It may be symbolic of her reluctance and hesitation to grow up - what if she gets drowned, what she never gets out alive, what if she doesn't enjoy it? What if things don't get as perfect as this again?
Why am I talking about this?
Lately I've been having a lot of "perfect days" that are (unfortunately) being left unwritten. Or not encapsulated enough in the few words I try to do so. Much like Bebe, the urge to write about them is not just about putting my writing skills to good use, but also trying to take these pieces of my life and have them down on paper for myself and everyone else to remember by. But more imperative, I think, is my apprehension of the future too - the same reluctance to leave behind this comforting, wonderful, ideal world. How could it get any better than this, being a college senior in a prestigious university with a highly regarded course? I'm uncomfortable about this "perfection" because I know I may have to leave it. I'm on the brink of everything. This is the tipping point now, the climax. And things can only go better or downhill from here. It's inevitable.
Bebe battles out the worry by just writing ahead anyway. The very acknowledgment of her fear is, also perhaps, a way of defeating it. I should take my cue from her, I guess. So what if the story doesn't completely sum up the perfect day? So what if things are probably not going to get as good as this? At least I'd have it on paper - or on this case, online. After all, if it's as perfect as I claim it to be, then a few words should be enough. Maybe, I don't need the complete picture to relive it all anyway, just the feeling that comes with it.
--
All this comes after a string of conversations, dates, and random bonding moments with many friends. It's fascinating how all these are happening at this time of the year, when we're all needing the comfort from people who know us the most and people who are going through the exact same things (aka hell weeks, thesis, graduation). Over siomai, cereals, or milk teas, we just talk and laugh and remember, and it's always enough. More than enough, even. O perfect days.
________________________________________________________________
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
Friends, links & affiliates
Links & Affiliates
|