home           about           blog           archives           domain           exits           ask

Happy 5th, Bombastarr!

Before anything else, it completely slipped off my mind that last February 5 was the 5th anniversary of this blog! I just remembered it a while ago. Wow, could you believe it, five long years? FIVE YEARS? I can't believe I've had this journal since I was.. *counts* thirteen! Whoa. That's a lifetime in Internet terms! Haha. It's insane. I know this hasn't been as updated as it once was, but this blog will always be my home. So, here's to the 5 years! Happy Birthday, Bombastarr! :)


I really am in no mood to write anything sensible right now. But today was pretty awesome. Lots of good and lucky things happened to me today -- from winning Php500-worth of Krispy Kreme gift certificates, to getting a pretty decent score for my Phil01 midterms. This week made up for all the bad vibes of the last. But the stressful times are far from over, in fact, it's only beginning. Our camping at Mt. Makiling is on Friday and exams, projects, and defenses are all coming up in the following weeks. Nghhhh. I'm so anxious about everything, even my hormones are messing up :| It's taking a toll on my body, seriously. But there's no escaping this. Let's just hope I get through this alive.

Summer vacation, please come quick :(


She will be-loved.

In CL184 class the other day we were discussing the dynamics of a relationship: the presence of a "lover" and a "beloved." It has been observed that in relationships, there is almost always someone who loves more than the other. And usually, wonderful literary works (poems, songs, novels) are created by the "lovers."

I really think that from the artistic point of view, it is always more noble to be the "lover." The anguish, the frustration, the uncertainty -- it all makes for a great piece of literature. I couldn't think of a time where I was not itching to make sense of everything by writing about it. I think a part of me, a huge part of me, wanted art to always imitate life. Or the other way around. I wanted my works to mirror what was happening to me because though they were painful, they were intoxicating -- suffering is always an artist's favorite ingredient.

And yet, stripping way all these literary inhibitions and standards, just as a real, normal human being, I honestly like being the "beloved." Looking back on my past relationships (if you could call them that), I realized I never really became one because I was always determined to get who I really, really wanted. I wanted to shower someone with MY affection to prove my sincerity. And by doing so, I never really got anything for myself. I didn't give myself the chance to look around and see who wanted to do that for me. I was subconsciously resisting being the "beloved."

Now, I think I am. I feel elated not only because of course who wouldn't want to be pampered, but also because as time passes by you realize when you find someone, who likes who more doesn't matter anymore. You just enjoy each other's company -- nothing beats the simplicity of that.

They say there's no fulfillment being the beloved. While that may be true in the literary aspect (I honestly haven't been writing as much as when I was so perplexed), I'm finding myself in a much better place. I'm happy, I really am And who wouldn't be? There is someone out there who finally sees my worth. What's not fulfilling about that?

And as for the artistic/creative hiatus -- well I'm sure I'll come around. After all, an artist's next favorite ingredient is love :)