One of my fondest memories as a kid was reading the newspaper every night with my Dodo. I remember snuggling between him and my grandma while he reads the dailies before going to bed. He would point to a letter on the day's headlines, and I'd shout what it was. This was before I went to proper school: I was three years old, and not enrolled in nursery yet. But because my aunt was a teacher, and our fridge was filled with alphabet magnets, I knew my ABC's. It was our nightly ritual - him going over the headlines, me going over its letters. Over time, I would graduate to simple words like "oil" or "up" - words that didn't mean that much to me yet, but were almost always present in the front page.

We didn't stop there. When we would go out on weekends, he'd point to signs and words we'd see on the road when he's on the wheel. When we were stuck in traffic, he let me indulge in reading out sari-sari store names and bank branches. Roadtrips were never boring and heavy traffic never felt that long - for me, at least.

A lot of things have changed since - my lolo now reads his newspapers in the morning (because he's long been retired) and I've since graduated to reading novels and law books.

But I'm glad for the many things that still remained the way they were - how we'd both spend hours on the couch or on the bed, just reading until our eyes give up. I grew accustomed to the habit of keeping the bedside night lamp turned on, and falling asleep with the magazine or newspaper or book on my chest. Reading before bed became a habit; so did reading until dozing off.

Some people say it's bad for the eyes. But it's always been good for the mind - and the soul.

Thank you, Dodo, for teaching me how to read, and for teaching me to love it. It certainly changed my life in unfathomable ways - I'm glad it was you I first shared it with.


I don't think I've ever written about my lolo yet - so here goes. Happy Father's Day, Dodo! ♥ I love you!


__


And of course, happy father's day, Papa! :* Thank you for the great weekend - and all the other weekdays and weekends :)

One of my fondest memories as a kid was reading the newspaper every night with my Dodo. I remember snuggling between him and my grandma while he reads the dailies before going to bed. He would point to a letter on the day's headlines, and I'd shout what it was. This was before I went to proper school: I was three years old, and not enrolled in nursery yet. But because my aunt was a teacher, and our fridge was filled with alphabet magnets, I knew my ABC's. It was our nightly ritual - him going over the headlines, me going over its letters. Over time, I would graduate to simple words like "oil" or "up" - words that didn't mean that much to me yet, but were almost always present in the front page.

We didn't stop there. When we would go out on weekends, he'd point to signs and words we'd see on the road when he's on the wheel. When we were stuck in traffic, he let me indulge in reading out sari-sari store names and bank branches. Roadtrips were never boring and heavy traffic never felt that long - for me, at least.

A lot of things have changed since - my lolo now reads his newspapers in the morning (because he's long been retired) and I've since graduated to reading novels and law books.

But I'm glad for the many things that still remained the way they were - how we'd both spend hours on the couch or on the bed, just reading until our eyes give up. I grew accustomed to the habit of keeping the bedside night lamp turned on, and falling asleep with the magazine or newspaper or book on my chest. Reading before bed became a habit; so did reading until dozing off.

Some people say it's bad for the eyes. But it's always been good for the mind - and the soul.

Thank you, Dodo, for teaching me how to read, and for teaching me to love it. It certainly changed my life in unfathomable ways - I'm glad it was you I first shared it with.


I don't think I've ever written about my lolo yet - so here goes. Happy Father's Day, Dodo! ♥ I love you!


__


And of course, happy father's day, Papa! :* Thank you for the great weekend - and all the other weekdays and weekends :)

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.

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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)

   

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On faith

This Is How It Doesn't Start

this is how it doesn't start, in eleven parts

Labels

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Archives

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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 Question

Are 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 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.

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.

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