Montreal, again.

So I had some other exciting news but since that other news is no longer happening I decided to share some equally exciting news with y’all — I’m headed to Montreal again! Next month. Mid-June. Three weeks today. Right after I receive my Bachelor’s degree and convocate forever from SFU. Happy graduation to me? I’m so excited. Excited to finally graduate and to travel once again. Been deprived of a proper vacation for almost a year now — unacceptable. Will be there for a mere five days and even though it’s a tad short, I’m still super stoked. This trip will be different from my past trips to Montreals but also my other getaways since it will be the first (and hopefully of many, many more) vacation I am taking with my boyfriend. I like how this relationship is progressing. Definitely keeping things positive and looking forward to the future. 3 more weeks, baby!

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The age game.

For those have known me for x number of years, you will know that I am attracted to the older man. The teacher, the business man, the one that’s 20 years my senior — it’s like I was born with this inherent borderline reversed perverted attraction. It’s never been a problem, or atleast I thought it would never be one. I mean, older men possess everything that I want to have or look towards in a potential boyfriend/husband: financial security, a house(s), a vehicle to get them to A to B, and hopefully, they’d already have their shit together. Um, yum? Yes please.

But it’s not always an attractive factor. It can also be unappealing at times, almost a turn off. I hate to be quoting an older guy that I was seeing who was only four years older than me that I incredibly hated for playing me but I understand now what he meant when he said we were at “different life stages”. I get it now, I totally do. Because although age may not matter, some things are undeniable and when there is a remarkable age difference at hand. One person may want one thing and the other may definitely feel obliged, or almost pressured to succumb to it. Perhaps I’m speaking for just myself, but it is a little bit of a scary thing. I am a generous person and I want to do everything and more for the person I love but am I willing to sacrifice my youth to commit on such  a serious level?  I may not be looking for anybody in particular at this very moment but what happens if I change my mind (which I so frequently do on a regular basis)? It’s just not fair. Not fair for me but most definitely not fair for the other person involved. I’m torn.

When did something so simple like my high school fantasies become such a complicating (which really should not be complicating) issue? I really shouldn’t be feeling this unnecessary pressure. Have I gone in too deep?


Mothers know best.

Too bad that statement is not a “one size fits all” type of deal.

There are two types of girls: ones that get along with their moms and are practically BFF (think Gilmore Girls) and there are ones that don’t. And even at the age of 22 going on 23, I do not get along with my mother. We have never had mother-daughter dates. I never came to her when I had boyfriend problems. Although I am an open person, I have yet to tell her about stuff that I have really struggled in during my life. And unless I have come to a breaking point, I have never told her about some big parts of my life. And it has really got me wondering that maybe I will never get to tell her any of these things.

Why? Because I can’t stand the blatant disapproval she has in her eyes. And I am not a bad kid. I stress that a lot. I am not a stupid, uneducated, reckless young adult. I make calculated decisions and think about future consequences. The planning side of me. I got that from her. But I just cannot fathom the way she looks down at me as if I am not her daughter. And this is all because of the brainwashing, problematic undoing of the big guy up in the sky: Roman fucking Catholicism.

Now, I’ve bitched about this on my blog a number of times but seriously, this organized crap has seriously brainwashed my mom and because that, it is driving her apart from her children. Everyone has their own way of coping with the hard times in life but seriously, I don’t think I can digest or attempt to digest yet another minute of her chastising my “Satanic ways” all because I sleepover at my boyfriend’s place. I’ve expressed countless of times why it upsets/frustrates and most importantly, offends me but to no avail. I’ve explained and backed up my points and have listened for hours (yes, hours) on why I should “cleanse my soul”. I am polite enough to even acknowledge her view. I am even more polite to share my experiences with her yet risking the fact that she will scold me afters because I want atleast attempt to preserve the deteriorating relationship that we currently have to this present day.

But I have concluded that not only is this a religious/spiritual problem — this is also a very cultural, patriarchal and generational problem as well that I am sure other parents from third world countries (and of course their children) are deeply affected by. The Philippines is very rooted in a patriarchal system, as well as any other Asian civilization — heck, all societies were atleast originated in patriarchal form. She is very much so a traditionalist so much so that gay marriage is immoral, common law couples or even the idea of it is strictly forbidden, men should be the primary breadwinner of the household, and that the whole point of marriage is to have children. WTF? I, on the other hand, am most definitely on the liberal side of things and find those three examples disturbing and offensive. But times are changing. We are in Canada. Liberation, equality and democracy are slowly happening all around the world. I just wish this close-mindedness way of thinking will be diminshed, atleast for my mom.

Now I’m beginning to rant.

But honestly, at times when I was younger I so wished that I could share those idealistic experiences with my mom. Telling her all my secrets, going out for lunch, her watching my athletic competitions. But that is not being realistic. Everyone has their own unique experiences. And I’m still not giving up on repairing this fragile familial bond. I am, however, most definitely turning my back on Christianity. It’s not forever, but who knows. I can’t picture myself converting, “rediscovering myself”, or even being remotely interested in the subject atleast for the next few hours. Why? Because the thought of it so revolting. And that it’s completely ruined the relationship between me and my mom to the point where I can’t get a word in and she refusees to hear or acknowledge any reason as to why I may oppose it. It makes me sick.

I just wish that there was a way for her to atleast view my accomplishments and open her eyes and just see how happy I am. I wish my mom did know best, atleast for me. She thinks she does, but she has no idea. She has no idea who I am. To be honest, she knows as much as you, the reader does.

And it saddens me.


Something to be excited about!

Despite my mundane routine-ness, I finally have some pretty awesome things to look forward to! So awesome that I can’t even reveal anything yet. If I just count my lucky stars… I’ll make it happen somehow. It’s time for me to take charge and control how my life is going to turn out.


The downfall of competitiveness.

I’ve always been competitive by nature. Always striving for excellence, to simply be the best. It’s not a negative quality to have, you know.  Why settle for something mediocre and sub-par when you can be on top?  Besides, I was taught that winning is everything.  I love having all the glory — who doesn’t?

But I’ve learned that it can indeed be a bad thing.  Ever since I was a child, I had never been the best at anything. I’d be good at things — art, spelling, sports — but never thebest. This carried on throughout highschool and later throughout my university career. I grew out of my shy shell and became a super keener — i was involved in anything and everything. Pep club, poster club, track and field, wrestling, cheerleading, student union, dance — you name it, I was in it. But the funny thing is, I never became the best.  It was actually kind of annoying, always being good but not good enough. This struggle (or perhaps conflict of my huge ego) even penetrated into my personal life.  Why was I still single?  I was (and still am) perky, athletic, smart, tanned, and I operate my own cupcake business, for god’s sake! And even though I now have a boyfriend, I am still striving (not struggling anymore) to be the best…girlfriend…to the point that I keep constantly compare myself to his other past ex’s and booty calls. What the hell. Come to think about it, I don’t even think half the things I’ve done in my life were for myself. I was always doing it for others, to impress people. Hell, at one point, this blog was used as a form of self-gratification.

See? Being the “best” isn’t always great. It can be, but it can also make a sick, twisted, and manipulative person. Atleast I had the sense to actually realize that.


May is a wonderful month.

Besides October (my birthday and Halloween), May is definitely by far my most favourite month of the year. The flowers are in full bloom, the sun is starting to shine on a more regular basis, and thirdly, it’s spot prawn season. But other than that, there always seems to be lots of things going on in May that it gives off the feel good summertime vibe. Last year, I only had Vegas but this year, every weekend is booked. I can hardly believe that it’s already the middle of May!
Bantoo & Meena's wedding
To start the month off, I went to my very first Indian wedding! When I was in Seattle this past March, I ran into my ex who was there for the bachelor party, and ended up with an invite to my ex’s friend’s wedding (whom I am also friends with; I wasn’t a complete random there). It was pretty fun, although I don’t believe it was an accurate representation of other Indian weddings. We were just there for the reception but all in all, it was a lot of fun! Free food, free booze — can’t really go wrong with that.
Bantoo & Meena's wedding
Other than that, it’s been a while since I saw a musical so when I was offered a crazy deal for tickets to see Rock of Ages, I jumped at the opportunity.  I honestly didn’t really know what this musical was about except for the fact that it was a hit on Broadway and it featured music from the late 1980s. What a surprise. It was a great performance. Taking place at the Centre for Performing Arts, I was a bit skeptical because I am aware of how small the theatre is (I’ve also seen Chicago and Avenue Q there but they made it work). It wasn’t an issue and honestly, I was very impressed with almost everything. I wasn’t exactly impressed with the vocals of Drew whom I think was being played by his understudy at the matinee show I saw yesterday as it didn’t seem to be strong enough/keep up with the rest of his colleagues. And I think “The Final Countdown” should have been the closing song for Act I and the opening should have been “Any Way you Want it/I Wanna Rock”. Oh well. It was still a stellar performance and I honestly think my boyfriend enjoyed it more than I did, ironically. Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin” was the perfect song to close the show. Rock on!
Rock of Ages Following the show, I went to Vancouver International Tequila Expo at the Vancouver Convention Centre. My god, I have never seen so many tomato-faced white people in my entire life. Is this what the Vancouver Playhouse Wine Festival is like? Dear lord. So many trainwrecks in there. Besides that, I got to try some premium tequila and discover a new appreciation for the drink (I’m still not a fan – still, for the most part, tastes like shit to me).  Again, I think my boyfriend benefitted a whole lot more than I did at this event. Afterall, I did buy the tickets for him since he’s a huge tequila lover and collector. I am such a good girlfriend.

Lastly, this has been such a magical month thus far. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and going back and forth on some things and have  done a ton of waiting around, but I am happy to say that I am most definitely in love. And I love the feeling. And I love how it makes me feel. I love how he makes me feel. I love my boyfriend. I love love.

May is a wonderful month. Nice things happen.


Those three words.

When is the right time? Timing, to me, is everything. And as a romantic, I am definitely waiting for the right moment.

There are so many factors to consider or in my opinion, normalized “rules” in the love game: length of the relationship, different stages of love, and who should say it first. I really think a lot of this is bullshit and totally fabricated.  Love shouldn’t be defined by these so-called boundaries, they should be guided by private, inherent feelings that are shared between two people.

I’ve expressed my concern, or more like gathering opinion from others, and it really is interesting to hear others’ perspective. I mean, afterall, their words don’t really matter to me. But really, it is all very curious. From the people I’ve talked to, ~four months seems to be the most average time to say it…although I think this varies between relationships. Second of all, there are different stages in love which are intertwined with age and maturity of the persons involved. I kind of agree with this. As I’ve said before, I was at a different stage when I was with my high school ex-boyfriend and my current more “senior” boyfriend is certainly at an age where he’s probably thinking of marriage so there are considerably different stages when it comes to love. I agree with this. But does it really matter who says it first? Last time I checked, love wasn’t or isn’t a race. (But for the record, he said it first and I withheld for good reason — everything needs to be just perfect).

I love you. They are three words that holds an enormous amount of meaning to it and it is a phrase that I do not throw around lightly. I love you. It’s coming, I can sense it. This month. I think so. Pretty sure. Yep.