home           about           blog           archives           domain           exits           ask

Signs of life

Man, it's been a while.


Hello. So I'm still alive. A lot has happened since the last time I wrote, although I'm not sure if all that has passed is really worth recapping. What's there to tell you anyway? Not much. Basically, the gist of the last year or so was this: I was holed up in a room and studying.

Now I'm out of that room, but inside another room, and working.

Life is funny sometimes. If you asked me four years ago, "Is this where you imagined yourself to be?" the answer is both yes and no. Yes, because of course I was expecting to be employed by this time, after having taken a break post-exam. But also, no, I had no idea I'd be doing this, working for a practice I genuinely enjoy. Who knew there's a place for me in this world after all?


I miss writing. Let's get this thing going again.



What have I to share about life outside the confines of my study?

To borrow from a friend: for the first time in nine years, there is no longer a lien on my existence. It's like I can finally breathe and enjoy time for what it is, not for what it is about to become.


There are (Christmas) lights at the end of this tunnel

And so I tell myself that I'll be strong
And dreaming when they're gone
'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home


I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling

"All I really, really, want is our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you too."

It took me almost a decade since I first heard this song before I finally understood the love you were singing about. And now that I have, it feels like there is nothing in the world I cannot overcome. A love that seeks to keep on giving is a love that will never run out. Love from family, from friends, from a person who makes you feel safe — when you have that in your life, what is there to fear?

This month is about overcoming a lot of things. And accepting that the journey that got me here is a reward in itself. Whatever happens, there is light waiting for me on the other side.

Happy birthday, Joni Mitchell — songwriter, artist, lover, Scorpio.


Now Playing: Something from three different decades

One Hot Minute, Red Hot Chili Peppers (1995)

Unpopular opinion: I actually like Red Hot Chili Pepper's One Hot Minute. No, I love it. Yeah, I said it. Come at me, bros.

Don't get me wrong, I love John Frusciante just as much as every other fan, and I truly think that it was his style and amazing ability that shaped the Chili Peppers sound that we know of today. (Although much respect is to be given to Hillel Slovak, let's admit that most of the RHCP songs we know are from both Frusciante eras.) Any time I watch an RHCP concert with John, it's like witnessing an apparition. (My favorite is their Live at Slane Castle.) To say that his skills are god-like would be a complete understatement. Listen to the opening riffs of "Snow (Hey Oh)" or the guitar solo at the end of "Dani California" in any of their live performances — a good introduction to their style for anyone who hasn't heard of them — if you're not convinced.

But. I have a soft spot for Dave Navarro's short tenure with the band. I don't know if it's because I generally like underdogs — in this case, the guy people never root for, the guy people hate on and mention right away when asked "Who was the worst RHCP guitarist??" on random online forums, the guy the band members themselves want to forget about — or, I just don't know enough about these things and the musicality of it all to make a proper judgment. But for whatever reason, I just really dig the whole dark, full-on rock aesthetic the Chili Peppers took on during his stay.

Truth is, I didn't really listen to songs from OHM except for "Aeroplane" until a few months ago when my boyfriend upgraded my Spotify to Premium (one of his grad gifts, haha), and I decided to explore their entire discography for study music. But even before this, I didn't think Dave Navarro was a bad fit. In fact, another favorite RHCP live performance of mine is "Blood Sugar Sex Magik" from Woodstock 1994, with Dave at the helm. I know it's a Frusciante-penned song, but damn it, Dave just effin' slayed that song. This is one of those rare instances where, yes, Dave >>> John. The song just became so much more edgy and insane. The riffs went from kinda funky to hardcore, and ugh I just love it so much. (Can you tell??)

Anyway, I got around to giving the Dave Navarro-era some love because I needed new songs to listen to. Needless to say, I loved it so much more than I expected. Please don't throw stones at me and say, "What, you like RHCP when they're less funky?? Not a true fan!" I don't care. I loved it. It was definitely a different flavor than what we — and apparently the band — were used to, but I think it shouldn't be swept under the rug as a forgettable album. It's definitely up there with the good ones, and deserve some more recognition, at least for me. The record was rough and hard and harsh — in a good, incredibly satisfying way. It's something right up my alley, honestly. If you think about it, it's amazing how much their sound changes and evolves with each new guitarist, and especially with One Hot Minute, it really seems like a very Dave record. It's so distinct. I wish the guys remained friendly with each other, if only so they could work on even just one new track, or at least perform some songs from the OHM era. But, alas, I'll content myself with Spotify and YouTube for my RHCP+Dave fix. Thank you Internet.

(P.S. I'll talk about my love for Flea and Chad Smith some other time.)

You Gotta Go There To Come Back, Stereophonics (2003)

Okay so it's no secret that even after many, many years since high school, "Dakota" is still my jam. Name whatever device I have, that song is there. It's been with me on my iPod classic crying over useless high school drama, and it's still with me here as I struggle my way through review. But I wish I could say the same for the other Stereophonics albums. Because apparently they're all freakin' great.

For a long time, I thought my favorite Stereophonics songs were all on Language.Sex.Violence.Other. But turns out, many of them were in either You Gotta Go There To Come Back and Push The Pin. This ignorance is a result of high school senior / college freshman me just downloading songs off Limewire, so I knew squat about where these tracks came from. But now that I know better (LOL) I decided to revisit these old songs I used to just hear on 00's teen shows. And to no one's surprise, these albums are fantastic.

Honesty time: in my teens, I had a few bands that I "fake-liked," — i.e. I only listened to their songs and claimed to like them because I thought they seemed cool. (Shame, 15-year-old, Karla. Or not, because you know, you were just a teenager and didn't know better.) This included Aqualung (I still can't remember any other song aside from "Brighter Than Sunshine"), The Killers, and Foster The People. I've long accepted the fact that I will never like them the way other people do, and it's okay to let them go.

But the Stereophonics, man, there was no pretending there. The few singles that did speak to me then still speak to me now. And the albums from where they came had the same effect. I'm so, so glad I decided to revisit their discography. This 2003 album in particular is so good in its longing and yearning. It's like chasing feelings you can never experience again; like holding on to ghosts that will never haunt you again. Man, it's such a shame that Stereophonics never really took off outside Europe, because this means there's a scarcity of performances and interviews to devour online. This also means there's a very, very slim chance of me seeing them live. (Although with the amount of obscure artists visiting the Philippines, I'm still keeping my fingers crossed.) This record — and the other two albums I mentioned — aged really well. For anyone who wants to dip their toes into some sad (in a good way) Welsh rock, definitely check these ones out.

Concrete and Gold, Foo Fighters (2017)

Let's get this one out of the way: the only other Foo Fighters album I've loved from start to finish was The Colour and The Shape. I have so much respect for Dave Grohl as a vocalist, drummer, default torch-bearer of modern-day Rock Music. (Also for Taylor Hawkins, because drummers are the best.) But the truth is, none of their albums really stand out to me. I know their singles, sure (I still dream of a future moment in my life where "Everlong" will be played in the background, LOL.) Their albums are just okay. Which isn't to say they aren't good — because they are. They're consistently good. It's just that, in the last decade or so, most of their albums have been very, uhm, vanilla. Delicious, but safe. And again, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Who doesn't like vanilla? I bet if you ask ice cream companies, that is their most successful flavor. And really, is there any other more lasting, successful, and genre-defining rock band right now than the Foo Fighters? As far as longevity goes, vanilla isn't a bad path to take.

To quote this line from an FF article I read: "That the Foos’ nearly quarter-century together has produced little in the way of artistic development is exactly the point. Grohl and his pals never set out to write the gospel on modern rock—they only sought to preach it, hammering it into our heads by way of biting hooks and anthemic melodies."

That being said, I think Concrete and Gold is very much an invigorating, exhilarating ride. A typical Foo Fighters album is an above-average one, even without them trying. But this one felt like they really did go out of their way to epistolize something new. The album has its political and critical undertones — but never on the verge of sanctimonious. It's the right kind of encouraging people to the streets — maybe not necessarily to protest (although it can definitely be seen as that), but maybe to free themselves from the shackles of our burdened times. It laments, but also, appeases.

I particularly loved the single "Run." If you close your eyes you can almost imagine yourself in the middle of an arena pumping your fist up in the air with this battle cry. "In another perfect life / we run," Dave sings. And for the next forty-eight minutes, it does feel like nothing can go wrong. You can run. It's anything but a safe, secure sentiment — and it's definitely a freeing one. Although you never really went away, welcome back, Foos.

(Bonus: Watch Dave talk about the creative process behind Concrete and Gold. The animation is so cool! Plus, it's interesting to see the stories behind the artists that got featured in the album.)




rude awakenings

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

Edmund Burke

People are dying on the streets. Rights are being trampled on. Due process is being disregarded. Policemen are crying over their tarnished media image; mothers are crying over their murdered innocent sons. Alleged thieves are being killed without a day in court; actual plunderers are still having the time of their lives with nary a thought to the blood on their hands.

How can people still be so blind? Worse: how can people still be so stupid?

Wake up  they are fucking this country over.


The capricious seaming of memory

"Memory, and time, both immaterial, are rivers with no banks, and constantly merging. Both escape our will, though we depend on them. Measured, but measured by whom or by what? The one is inside, the other, outside, or so it seems, but is that true? Time seems also buried deep in us, but where? Memory is right here, in the head, but it can exit, abandon the head, leave it behind, disappear. Memory, a sanctuary of infinite patience.

Is memory produced by us, or is it us? Our identity is very likely whatever our memory decides to retain. But let’s not presume that memory is a storage room. It’s not a tool for being able to think, it’s thinking, before thinking. It also makes an (apparently) simple thing like crossing the room, possible. It’s impossible to separate it from what it remembers."

- Etel Adnan (Lebanese-American poet, essayist, philosopher, and visual artist), on the role of memory in the continuity of our personal identity

The other day I had an odd, but strangely familiar dream. I was walking down Freshie Walk, rushing to (or from) class, when I bumped into you. You were alone, and your hair was unkempt. It took me a while to recognize you, because you no longer wore your hair like that - at least outside this dream, which took me a few seconds to realize I was in. I was startled to see you coming up close, and I hesitated if I should greet you.

Then you walked up to me and said, "What are we doing here?"

"Here? You mean, in school?"

"No, I mean, here,"

And I realized in an instant that you meant this realm, this space in time where we aren't together, where our lives haven't yet found their way back to each other. The year was 2008, and it was almost Christmas - I could tell by the "Free Toki" Accenture-sponsored jeep I alighted, and the karaoke-sounding medley of yuletide songs the manong driver was playing.

"What are we doing here?" I ask again.

"Maybe this is where we wish we met,"

"But it would have changed everything."

Then, I no longer recall what happened after. After waking up, it took me a few minutes to process the dream, because it wasn't as vivid or as long as the other ones I do remember. (Truth is, I rarely have dreams, and when I do, they're often super weird. Like, Rick and Morty weird.)

Remembering dreams is such a funny thing. Especially ones that feel so real. It's literally your mind playing tricks on you. I swear, that moment of me rushing through Freshie Walk, only to slow down because I thought I recognized someone approaching me - I know it happened. I felt like it did. But somehow, my brain rewired that memory of having you in it instead, and now I kinda wish it was how it really turned out. Perhaps things would have been way different, and maybe different doesn't necessarily mean worse.

Sometimes I wish a lot of things that happened in college turned out differently. Not because I regret them, but because I think they could have been much better. And it would be nice to see an alternate timeline, where I could be another version of myself that's not exactly a stranger, but someone not as lost, or loud, or worried. I could have taken more risks, I could have been more ambitious. I would have written about you, and not have been unafraid of so many things. We could have had a lot of fun - a kind of happy that fit that time of our lives. Whereas now, we reward ourselves after work (you) and 200-pages-or-so (me) with a fancy meal, back then a banana shake would have been enough. You know, small things we never got to share because we didn't have the chance then.

This is how my mind plays with me these days. My mind is often tired, and it is running on autopilot. But it still - at least - dares to dream. Literally. It gives me things to feel happy about, thoughts to keep me company. It is not content with reading academic words on pages; it still writes its own stories every now and then.

So now, a part of me wishes to go back in time just to see how nice it would have been to share those with you. The present is great, and the future something to look forward to. But there is a bittersweet kind of longing for this past we never shared, a yearning accompanied by this curiosity, both piqued and left unsatisfied by my subconscious playing tricks on me. This is how this mind works: it remembers you in places you were never in. It is aware of its deception, but also, innocuous with its intentions. Well-meaning, even. It is very much grounded with what is real, but also, enjoys in playing with what isn't. "My memories form a forest with unstable boundaries," Adnan says. Memory sews together events that hadn’t previously met. It reshuffles the past and makes us aware that it is doing so. Sometimes, it leads to unexpected results - like seeing you in a faux memory and you knowing where we were - but always, always interesting ones.


Current location

One day, the world is going to be my oyster.

But until then, I have to stay put. This little corner where I sit shall be my universe, at least until all this is over. And I shall be content in knowing that there is beauty in this struggle.

Patience, young grasshopper.


A belated appreciation for Diana Prince

There's a tweet I came across a few weeks ago, back when Wonder Woman just started gaining traction. It is super funny, yet also very true and powerful at the same time:

And it is so accurate. Ever since I saw this film on IMAX, I felt like a warrior was ready to rip herself out of my chest. I was so pumped, so amazed, so awed. It was the story of one woman - a strong, ideal, almost-perfect goddess - and yet, in so many ways, it was also incredibly human.

Unfortunately, this isn't going to be a proper review of the movie. (Although it's definitely a 12/10 for me.) But I'd like to take the time to write about something that is so incredibly rare for me these days: to find something so inspiring. Seeing Wonder Woman embrace this whole idea of being brave amidst it all for the common good - it's uplifting. And truth is, I really needed that.

And these days, don't we all?


(Yeah, sometimes, I spend my short breaks reading superhero comics. When the weight of it all becomes too heavy to bear, I like jumping into a world where the lines between good and bad are clearly drawn. Where we know who the good guys and the bad guys are. I guess it's my way of coping with all this grief and sadness and anger; some sort of coping mechanism.)


At last

This is the result of nine years in UP: finally that Sablay on my left shoulder with the purple tassel on it. It still feels surreal. This is what I've been working on for most of my adult life: getting good grades in high school so I can enter a good university, working my ass off in college to land a spot in law school, crying myself to sleep just to get that juris doctor degree. And now here we are! Is it really the end? How the hell did I make it??? I can't believe it's been 10 years since I took the UPCAT. And wasn't it only yesterday that I wrote it a love letter, of sorts, after graduating from college? 

I know I sound like a broken record, but man, UP really was my dream school. My family (especially my Tita Gina) did a great job of going all Inception on me ever since I was young. They were pretty consistent in making me believe that it was a place where dreams came true.

Was it everything I expected it to be? Yes, and no. It has its failures: it is just like the outside world. Some people are terrible, some ideas are trash, some institutions should be reformed. But at the same time, it is nothing like anything else out there. There is kindness, there is wisdom, there is love. There is comfort in knowing that when people come together with great ideas and with compassion, so much good can be done.

Wow. I guess this is really it. 

Thank you, UP, for the privilege of being nurtured by you. I hope one day I can repay the taxpayers for the eight-and-a-half-years of funding for my tuition. I promise you, I'll do you proud one day. Just you wait :) 




Someone finds salvation in everyone, and another only pain

So this is how it feels to lose one of your heroes. His music has been a quiet friend to me for all these years. Audioslave and Soundgarden were cornerstones of my adolescent life - and eventually, much of my young adulthood. Even his solo albums were permanent residents of playlists on any of my gadgets. I can't count how many times his songs have given me comfort, even in times when I thought I didn't really need it.

I never knew you, I never saw you live, but I feel so devastated. Ang sakit-sakit naman, Chris Cornell. Rest easy.



“We depend on our surroundings obliquely to embody the moods and ideas we respect and then to remind us of them. We look to our buildings to hold us, like a kind of psychological mould, to a helpful vision of ourselves. We arrange around us material forms which communicate to us what we need — but are at constant risk of forgetting what we need — within. We turn to wallpaper, benches, paintings and streets to staunch the disappearance of our true selves.”

The Architecture of Happiness, Alain de Botton

Why do we feel like we belong in some places and not in others? It's interesting to me how the idea of a physical space can have so much impact on our identities - no matter that it's our first time there, or our thousandth. It's also interesting how our relationship with a place evolves: like how a place we dislike will later on become monuments of a certain part of our lives that we will eventually look back on nostalgically.

I think my favorite part of going on a trip is getting this feeling of "I belong," on the most random of places. I can honestly say that I don't see myself permanently residing abroad ever - but I'm going to lie if I say that there aren't parts of other countries where I can imagine myself being a part of its picture. There are places that resonated with certain parts of me, echoes that only the inner, most secret versions of myself could hear. And it was oddly comforting event though physically - all senses considered - they are alien.

Consider this carousel: before my trip, I only saw it once, on a video montage featuring a particular love team. But my feelings for said pairing notwithstanding - I instantly felt so much joy and excitement. Like I've never seen a carousel before - even though I have, a hundred times. I don't even like riding carousels. Something about it just spoke to me - maybe the colors? The innocence of children's laughter? The chilly, snuggle-appropriate weather? Whatever it was, it spoke to a part of me that longed for carefree, happy Saturday afternoons.

What does that say about me? A lot, but also, maybe, not much.

"Place makes memories cohere in complex ways," writes architectural historian Dolores Hayden. And I think that's true. How else can we have a memory of something if it doesn't have a setting? A backdrop?

I don't have a steady grasp of my "true self" lately. I'm not sure how much of my likes and dislikes right now are permanently part of "Karla, the person." But I'd like to think that this year is going to be all about reconciling these impulses to the identity. I'm in for a long period of introspection inside my room - aside from all the studying, of course. Personalities change, just as much as surroundings do. But the self can change too even when the place does not. Here's to hoping I like whatever version of me that comes out from this cocoon of a year.


Faculty Center: One last look

I went to UP yesterday to fix my clearance; and on my way to the OUR I just had to pass by this place again. It's been more than a year since the fire, and it still stings. I was there that night. My friends and I went to accompany another friend, a professor at the History department who thought he could still salvage his things.

As I stood in the same spot I did a year ago, I was again reminded of everything that was lost in the flames - records, undergrad theses, thousands of books, costumes, scripts, poems, novels, works of art, memories. Stories. Corners and corridors that witnessed our every failure and joy. Sometimes, I still wonder, how can its end be so cruel? To have left absolutely nothing behind but ashes?

I stood in front of it yesterday with a heavy heart - heavier than my usual sentiments of missing CAL as I crawled my way through law school. Turns out, today the building is being demolished. FC was home, perhaps even more so than Malcolm ever was. And to lose it so permanently just as my stay in UP was ending - it felt like salt on my battle wounds.

But if there's anything I learned as a student of this college, it's that there is beauty to be found in starting over. Stories end, time passes. Life comes and goes, often taking away parts of us we can never get back. The most we can hope for is that this sadness will eventually carry us through. To new narratives, new perspectives, new meanings. For now, we grieve. Tomorrow - as with all tomorrows - we will pick up our pens and write again.


Labels: ,


Signs of Life: Back from the US

I came back from the US about a week ago but have just recently re-adjusted my body to the nights and days on this part of the world. I was gone for twenty-one days, on a time zone sixteen hours away. And I have nothing to complain about - I had a fantastic time, I visited places I've only dreamt of seeing and I wish I could write about all of it.

But as I'll have you all know, I'm on a tight schedule. The trip was meant to be my graduation gift, after finally finishing my law studies (in nine semesters - hahaha). I took it early this year for a reason, and that is, so I can go back and focus on my review for the bar. So while I spent the last three weeks happily gallivanting around San Francisco and Los Angeles (and a small part of San Jose), it also meant I had to work on my calendar so that I am not behind on my preferred study schedule.

I know, I know, isn't it too early, blah blah blah. But four-and-a-half years in law school have taught me what I needed to know about myself, and that is, I'm only good at procrastinating when I'm writing. Not so much on my studying. So if I can get a head start on things as soon as I can, that will be terrific.

As such, I won't be having the luxury of writing about the entire trip as lengthily as I want to - at least for the moment. I just wanted to give you guys (the four or five of you who might still be reading this thing, LOL) a quick update on what's been going on in my life. And at least give this blog some signs of life.

Maybe I'll find the time to write during my study breaks; maybe not. But at least, consider this my notice to the world. I'm back, but also, not really. :))


Labels: ,


The story behind my interview with Nadine Lustre

It has been said that there is great peril in meeting someone you've admired for so long - often they do not live up to your expectations. They turn out to be less of the magnificent person you've conjured in your head, and more of a flawed, distorted, imperfect version. Which can either be a good or bad thing. Good, because at least you know they're human just like you. Bad, because wtf they're human just like you.

I tried coming into this interview with zero expectations - "tried" being the operative word here, because much as I wanted to be all professional (after all, I don't work for Scout; this is my first time to interview a celebrity; and first time to do a cover story) I was also very aware that the reason I was chosen to do the task was because I was, first and foremost, a fan.

Reposting this photo just to illustrate - again - that I wasn't kidding when I said I'm a fan :))
[To be honest, this was all my boyfriend's doing; I did NOT force him to treat me to 
Barcino for Christmas! Hahaha #defensive]

"Fan" - it's such a funny word. It's either a badge you wear with honor or a label you detest. Either way, for most people, "fan" is associated with "irrational," "lovesick," or "obsessive." I sure as hell believed I was none of those adjectives, but I swear the moment I stepped into that shoot I became all of it. I couldn't decide how to sit, where to put my cellphone, how to look at her. It felt like staring at the sun, only instead of UV rays I got a simple girl putting her own makeup, preparing her own salad. But radiance and warmth just the same.

It has also been said that there is great danger in meeting and writing about someone you've admired for so long - often, you cannot encapsulate who they are. I've been asked a hundred times since the cover feature has been revealed: "How was she?" "What was she like?"

Screencap of the teaser of my article, grabbed from Scout

The funny thing is I've already written my article, and thought I've said what I can say about her. And yet, almost a month later, here I am, still finding excuses to write about her, still looking for ways to sneak her into the conversation, still wanting to talk to and about her. Because the thing is, she was nothing like my expectations. She was so much more. Which is something that a "lovesick / obsessed" fan will say about her. But it's true - she was great, and yes, I am a lovesick / obsessed fan. She was casual, and honest, and candid. She was willing to talk openly about her love life and her ambitions. She gamely played with the photographer's and layout team's ideas. She made jokes; she told stories (some about herself, some about James, one about another fandom - hahaha #secret).

But more than that, she seemed like a great friend. And isn't that what we all want? To be friends with the people we admire? The way she answered her questions, man I swear I felt like we could be BFFs if we just had more time. Don't get me wrong - I'm under no illusions that if I message her randomly she'll remember me and we'll get to hang out. But, she really seemed like the kind of person I - and consequently, everyone - could connect with. No pretenses.

Which is the most we can hope for when we meet our idols, I guess. That we are given a glimpse of who they are behind the persona. At the end of the day, she is still after all human. But more than just a girl, she is a person with stories. A person with dreams, with plans, with questions. With things that bother her, things that make her heart leap for joy.  

If there's one thing I've learned from reading all these cases and jurisprudence in law school, it's this: Never forget that these people are real. The names you read about in SCRA? People. The faces you imagine as you memorize doctrines? People. And in the same way, the artistas whose photos we like on IG and whose teleseryes we follow religiously? People. And if there's also one thing I've learned from my degree in college, it's this: It's important to get to humanize the people you write about. They are not two-dimensional characters with quotes. It's all pretty much the same. And the most important thing to remember always is that when you meet someone, as a fan, as a writer, as a lawyer, it's important to find these stories, so that we can paint a better picture of them, something we can hold on to with great pride and respect. It doesn't matter if you come in there as a fan or as a mere observer - just as long as you find it and you do it well. And when we get to find that common ground with anyone - celebrity, stranger, whoever - it makes for the best kinds of stories. Plural.

This K. Bernardo loves Nadine! ;)

So I guess that entire experience can't really be summed up with one article. Or one caption. It was just an hour of the interview, but I felt like we talked for hours. Which you can chalk up to my being a lovesick / obsessed fangirl. Or you can blame it on Nadine being able to put her walls down and reveal parts of herself to people who are eager to listen. Either way, it makes for a great fan encounter - and a great story to write about again and again.


P.S. If you want to read the cover story I wrote featuring Nadine, grab a copy of this month's January-February issue of Scout! It's available online here or at select campuses, and National Bookstore & Powerbooks branches :)

The cover for the print version


And the cover for the digital version


(Credits: All photos from the issue itself are from Scout magazine. The BTS shot as well as my photo with her are from my camera. The photo of James and Nadine was grabbed from her Instagram account. The photo of me and my boyfriend was grabbed from his phone wallpaper #hehe)