I'm an only child, and growing up, while I had playmates in my mom, titas, and lolas, I was also mostly left to entertain myself. Which wasn't at all sad or lonely. That's just how things were, and it was the only reality I knew, loved and appreciated. I was the typical little girl: I had lots of toys, mostly dolls. And I had a lot of Barbies (and Polly Pockets), which my parents always gave to me as rewards for good work in school or for other special occasions. Each time, I'd make sure to pick a doll that represented something new: a doctor, a teacher, a gymnast, a swimmer, an astronaut, a nurse, etc. And with each doll, I would conjure a lifetime of back stories, and a whole universe of possibilities. I'd make up their names, their family histories, and write down their dialogues. I'd invent catch-phrases and plot twists. I was always so into character, I'd sometimes have notebooks just to take note of the stories I had in every "timeline." I'd make sure each Barbie was different, so that each time I'd play with them, I get to "live" a different life.
Maybe that explains why my imagination ran wild as a kid, and why I eventually found myself being so drawn to reading and writing. I loved finding these stories in each toy, the same way that I loved telling them. It brought me places. You can say what you want about Barbies (and most "girly" dolls for that matter) - that they're fake, that they're not real, that they give girls a wrong sense of self. But I have to disagree; at least in my case, that wasn't what happened. My Barbies opened up a world of possibilities for me. There were Barbies for everything - and that translated to an endless road of opportunities. In my head, as a kid, if Barbie could be a scientist, I could be a scientist too! If she can fly a plane, I could also fly a plane! If she chooses to not marry Ken, she can not marry Ken. It was simple. Barbie had choices. That meant I had too.
I'm turning 24 soon, and practically a lifetime away from the simple afternoons of just playing with dolls. But I will always remember that feeling: of believing that there is always a chance at something great, of knowing that there are versions of me I could still chase after.
Of allowing yourself to imagine everything you could one day become.
I'm an only child, and growing up, while I had playmates in my mom, titas, and lolas, I was also mostly left to entertain myself. Which wasn't at all sad or lonely. That's just how things were, and it was the only reality I knew, loved and appreciated. I was the typical little girl: I had lots of toys, mostly dolls. And I had a lot of Barbies (and Polly Pockets), which my parents always gave to me as rewards for good work in school or for other special occasions. Each time, I'd make sure to pick a doll that represented something new: a doctor, a teacher, a gymnast, a swimmer, an astronaut, a nurse, etc. And with each doll, I would conjure a lifetime of back stories, and a whole universe of possibilities. I'd make up their names, their family histories, and write down their dialogues. I'd invent catch-phrases and plot twists. I was always so into character, I'd sometimes have notebooks just to take note of the stories I had in every "timeline." I'd make sure each Barbie was different, so that each time I'd play with them, I get to "live" a different life.
Maybe that explains why my imagination ran wild as a kid, and why I eventually found myself being so drawn to reading and writing. I loved finding these stories in each toy, the same way that I loved telling them. It brought me places. You can say what you want about Barbies (and most "girly" dolls for that matter) - that they're fake, that they're not real, that they give girls a wrong sense of self. But I have to disagree; at least in my case, that wasn't what happened. My Barbies opened up a world of possibilities for me. There were Barbies for everything - and that translated to an endless road of opportunities. In my head, as a kid, if Barbie could be a scientist, I could be a scientist too! If she can fly a plane, I could also fly a plane! If she chooses to not marry Ken, she can not marry Ken. It was simple. Barbie had choices. That meant I had too.
I'm turning 24 soon, and practically a lifetime away from the simple afternoons of just playing with dolls. But I will always remember that feeling: of believing that there is always a chance at something great, of knowing that there are versions of me I could still chase after.
Of allowing yourself to imagine everything you could one day become.
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.
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.)
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.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
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