home           about           blog           archives           domain           exits           ask

The Bombastarr: On Its Sixth Season! Out now on Blu-ray and DVD!

It just occurred to me that my blog turns six this month. Six years old. A lot can happen in six years. Just look at any TV show and observe the hair, the wardrobe and the apparent change in love team set-ups. Six years. That seems like ages in Internet years, doesn't it? I feel like I should go and do something different to celebrate, like give away iPads to random fans or finally buy a domain or publish a book with all my entries- something- but unfortunately, I don't have the necessary funds nor the ego to do that, so maybe instead of a wild virtual boozefest, I'll go with something more cozy and intimate: a nice and quiet little blog entry. (OH I bet you didn't expect that AT. ALL.)

I don't know if I should be proud or ashamed that this blog is the only consistent form of writing I have- I have no secret notebooks with a collection of short stories and I don't have unfinished novels on the backs of yellow pads. If I become famous and my memorabilia find its way on eBay, (nonexistent) fans would not have the luxury of bidding for my diaries and poems on old napkins. I simply do not have anything of that sort to prove that I did write outside the walls of the academe.

Which is kind of sad, really, because how can I be a writer without any kind of actual writing? I hear the dead poets/fictionists/essayists of yore turning over their graves in dismay over this. Ahh, technology has ruined you, they say. Well, I do have bits and pieces of sentences on the backs of my notebooks. But nothing of the literary sort. Only a refrain or two from the sexiest man with an acoustic guitar, John Mayer. And a lot of doodling of my name and someone else's. (Oops. But no surname changes, I assure you.)

I try. I really try. On the bookshelf above my bed and on my study table, I have a dozen or so notebooks waiting, just waiting to be used. How sturdy and wonderful to the touch the covers are, how vulnerable and alluring the pages seem. And yet I cannot find the words- no, the words are always there- I cannot find the courage to vandalize them. I cannot. I really can't. I try, but it doesn't happen. The magic doesn't occur on the fancy, frilly notebooks with ribbons and lines and wood-scented pages.

It's ironic that I have all this love for pens and notebooks and school supplies but I never really use of them for literary writing, more for academic writing. I get a high from taking down notes, making sure my bullets are aligned and important words are written in script. But when it's time to put into words what my characters need to say, the pen doesn't cut it for me.

The alchemy begins when my fingers graze the keyboard, when I find the dark blue header and the bright orange logo awaiting my return like a loyal pet dog, when instead of empty lines my hands are welcomed with small, distinct squares; the words, the punctuations, the feelings, the frustrations come out. I don't know why. It just does that way. And often that happens when I blog.

So I guess it isn't to say this "typing" is not some form of writing. I've said this before and I'll say it again, if it weren't for this blog I wouldn't seriously consider taking up Creative Writing. Despite my constant thrill during English class and a number of essay-writing contests, I just didn't feel like I was 'practiced enough' to consider myself a writer. I wasn't even a part of the school paper. Blogging was literally the only type of writing I've had going on for me- and maybe that's a sucky excuse for getting into this course, but so far I haven't been regretting my decision yet.

This blog is a culmination of the six years I've been letting my fingers do the talking for me. I'm not saying everything that has been created thus far has all been profound or coherent- heck, I'm certain for the most part they're all just clumsy attempts of putting down whatever it is in my head. (And quite frankly, a lot of them I still cringe on when I look back on to them.) But for what it's worth, it really is all I've got. And I can't say I'm not proud of it.

It's been a wonderful six years. I don't think a lot of people can say they've had a blog for six years. Happy birthday, Bombastarr @ Blogspot! I hope this doesn't end just yet :)

P.S. So yeah, I guess you still won't be seeing me flooding your Tumblrs any time soon.