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Talk throughs and celestial (un)certainties
The thing about being in school for so long is that you stop feeling like having a life outside the four corners of most rooms - a classroom, the library, your condo unit - feels like a transgression. Any time spent with friends or family without books or cases, you start feeling guilty. Days are counted by the number of hours you have to either earn your breaks or make up for it. You never get to fully engage your self in certain social situations, because at the back of your head you're always worrying about crawling back to your readings.
Now that law school and bar review is over (for good, HELL YEAH), I'm slowly easing my way into having a social life. I get to have dinner with friends and have meaningful conversations that I can fully immerse myself in because things are - well, not easier, per se, but - less stifling.
Which is an opportune time, I guess, especially now that I feel like I'm going through an internal crisis of sorts. I'm navigating through grief, I'm coming to terms with certain realities about being an adult, I'm feeling angry and frustrated about our nation's institutions falling apart - and I can't do that alone. Or, maybe I can. But I appreciate the company of people going through the same things, riding out the same waves.
Of knowing that you have allies, in your principles and in your passions.
Listening is underrated. There is comfort in conversation, folks. It liberates.
___
Somewhere in the digital sea of old files in my hard drive is an old screenplay I wrote for class. I never got to finish it - never even got it to take off to any kind of conflict - but I recall it was about fortunes being told, and fates being decided by the stars.
A girl opens her palm to a mysterious lady under a tree. It was mid-afternoon when she stepped out of work for a smoke. The lady called to her and asked her if life consumed her the way the puffs of smoke did. Out of both curiosity and boredom, she approached her and sought out answers for questions she didn't dare ask. But my script ended there because I had no knowledge of palm reading, and did not have insights on what it meant to predict futures.
Venus is about to enter retrogade, so goes much of Twitter today. I try not to take these things seriously, but sometimes there is comfort in hanging on to so-called certainties found in celestial bodies.
Scorpio sun, Libra rising, Moon in Gemini, Venus in Virgo, reads my birth chart. What does it mean? I sift through readings, I scroll through interpretations. I press like when I recognize myself, which is just about thirty percent of the time. I know none of these matter in the real world, and almost all of it is never really true. But I still find myself Googling through meanings every now and then, hoping to make sense of feelings that shouldn't be there but just are.
Is this part of the quarter-life, suddenly seeking new lenses through which to view life?
One of my best friends has recently thrown all caution in the wind and professed faith in horoscopes. I message her about these fears of mine every now and then, and she tells me how "Scorpio" or how "Libra" I am, or reminds me that this is just how it is for "Moons in Gemini." I sometimes don't know what she means, but I find myself being okay with it. Normally, I would scoff at such frivolities, but these days, I feel like exchanges like this are more comforting than "real talks" where practicalities are clearly defined.
How naive, Karla. Also, how delusional. You think putting your head above the clouds makes sense?
No, but, somehow it makes things more easily digestible.
And I feel like this is probably how it is for a lot of people. There's a reason why millennials cling to astrology so badly these days, out of irony, but maybe also out of desperation. These horoscopes, and personality tests, and astral charts - all coping mechanisms, and to a certain extent, they work. If it gets one going and allows you to still wake up, find the courage to carry on, and do some good in the world, then why not.
Outside, people are starving, dying. There is turmoil, and chaos, and fear. There is this nagging feeling of "Why can't I do anything about it?" All that we've known, and all that we've been taught - they all feel useless. The world is becoming more and more cruel, slowly and surely gnawing at whatever is left of our idealism.
The future is scary and overwhelming, the present, even more so. None of us have the answers, but all of us have the same questions. I guess it's in these times where we're allowed to find something to hold onto these days, no matter how capricious.
Is this being a Scorpio, or is this just being a 26-year-old?
___
Facebook's "On This Day" reminded me that six years ago, I was eagerly anticipating the release of Red. Yep, that Taylor Swift album.
October 2012 feels like a lifetime ago. I am no longer in that same head space, no longer heartbroken and tired. I no longer have the same feelings of love-and-hate towards Taylor Swift (these days, it's more of just ambivalence). But it is still my favorite album of hers, for many reasons, the first of them being "State of Grace."
I am turning 27 soon. In twenty-one days to be exact. I am both excited and terrified, because 26 was so good to me. It was incredible and exhilarating and generous. But 27 is a little more uncertain: no more goal posts, no more clearly defined finish lines. Only an open race that leads to... what exactly? I have no idea.
"This is a state of grace / this is a worthwhile fight," I remember singing this song while cramming for Persons as a first year student. It carried me through that exam. Will it carry me through this month, nay, this year?
Let's check in with "On This Day" next year to find out.
__
A very good friend has been telling me to keep writing. I don't have anything to write about, I say. And worse, I don't have the time.
Well, here: fragments of thoughts at 5:21 in the afternoon, on a Friday. It's not much, but it's still something. Maybe one day I'll get back to that screenplay. But until then, this will have to do.
________________________________________________________________
Talk throughs and celestial (un)certainties
The thing about being in school for so long is that you stop feeling like having a life outside the four corners of most rooms - a classroom, the library, your condo unit - feels like a transgression. Any time spent with friends or family without books or cases, you start feeling guilty. Days are counted by the number of hours you have to either earn your breaks or make up for it. You never get to fully engage your self in certain social situations, because at the back of your head you're always worrying about crawling back to your readings.
Now that law school and bar review is over (for good, HELL YEAH), I'm slowly easing my way into having a social life. I get to have dinner with friends and have meaningful conversations that I can fully immerse myself in because things are - well, not easier, per se, but - less stifling.
Which is an opportune time, I guess, especially now that I feel like I'm going through an internal crisis of sorts. I'm navigating through grief, I'm coming to terms with certain realities about being an adult, I'm feeling angry and frustrated about our nation's institutions falling apart - and I can't do that alone. Or, maybe I can. But I appreciate the company of people going through the same things, riding out the same waves.
Of knowing that you have allies, in your principles and in your passions.
Listening is underrated. There is comfort in conversation, folks. It liberates.
___
Somewhere in the digital sea of old files in my hard drive is an old screenplay I wrote for class. I never got to finish it - never even got it to take off to any kind of conflict - but I recall it was about fortunes being told, and fates being decided by the stars.
A girl opens her palm to a mysterious lady under a tree. It was mid-afternoon when she stepped out of work for a smoke. The lady called to her and asked her if life consumed her the way the puffs of smoke did. Out of both curiosity and boredom, she approached her and sought out answers for questions she didn't dare ask. But my script ended there because I had no knowledge of palm reading, and did not have insights on what it meant to predict futures.
Venus is about to enter retrogade, so goes much of Twitter today. I try not to take these things seriously, but sometimes there is comfort in hanging on to so-called certainties found in celestial bodies.
Scorpio sun, Libra rising, Moon in Gemini, Venus in Virgo, reads my birth chart. What does it mean? I sift through readings, I scroll through interpretations. I press like when I recognize myself, which is just about thirty percent of the time. I know none of these matter in the real world, and almost all of it is never really true. But I still find myself Googling through meanings every now and then, hoping to make sense of feelings that shouldn't be there but just are.
Is this part of the quarter-life, suddenly seeking new lenses through which to view life?
One of my best friends has recently thrown all caution in the wind and professed faith in horoscopes. I message her about these fears of mine every now and then, and she tells me how "Scorpio" or how "Libra" I am, or reminds me that this is just how it is for "Moons in Gemini." I sometimes don't know what she means, but I find myself being okay with it. Normally, I would scoff at such frivolities, but these days, I feel like exchanges like this are more comforting than "real talks" where practicalities are clearly defined.
How naive, Karla. Also, how delusional. You think putting your head above the clouds makes sense?
No, but, somehow it makes things more easily digestible.
And I feel like this is probably how it is for a lot of people. There's a reason why millennials cling to astrology so badly these days, out of irony, but maybe also out of desperation. These horoscopes, and personality tests, and astral charts - all coping mechanisms, and to a certain extent, they work. If it gets one going and allows you to still wake up, find the courage to carry on, and do some good in the world, then why not.
Outside, people are starving, dying. There is turmoil, and chaos, and fear. There is this nagging feeling of "Why can't I do anything about it?" All that we've known, and all that we've been taught - they all feel useless. The world is becoming more and more cruel, slowly and surely gnawing at whatever is left of our idealism.
The future is scary and overwhelming, the present, even more so. None of us have the answers, but all of us have the same questions. I guess it's in these times where we're allowed to find something to hold onto these days, no matter how capricious.
Is this being a Scorpio, or is this just being a 26-year-old?
___
Facebook's "On This Day" reminded me that six years ago, I was eagerly anticipating the release of Red. Yep, that Taylor Swift album.
October 2012 feels like a lifetime ago. I am no longer in that same head space, no longer heartbroken and tired. I no longer have the same feelings of love-and-hate towards Taylor Swift (these days, it's more of just ambivalence). But it is still my favorite album of hers, for many reasons, the first of them being "State of Grace."
I am turning 27 soon. In twenty-one days to be exact. I am both excited and terrified, because 26 was so good to me. It was incredible and exhilarating and generous. But 27 is a little more uncertain: no more goal posts, no more clearly defined finish lines. Only an open race that leads to... what exactly? I have no idea.
"This is a state of grace / this is a worthwhile fight," I remember singing this song while cramming for Persons as a first year student. It carried me through that exam. Will it carry me through this month, nay, this year?
Let's check in with "On This Day" next year to find out.
__
A very good friend has been telling me to keep writing. I don't have anything to write about, I say. And worse, I don't have the time.
Well, here: fragments of thoughts at 5:21 in the afternoon, on a Friday. It's not much, but it's still something. Maybe one day I'll get back to that screenplay. But until then, this will have to do.
________________________________________________________________
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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