Something clicked sometime last week; in between our usual midweek lunch banter or perhaps at Niner with Lau and Emz when I had that cough syrup of a drink, or somewhere during my four-block walk to Fully Booked picking up the art of tidying up or maybe over those two Maricel bottles Friday with My and Ciels, or over the weekend with the girls when we stuffed our asses with porchetta or perhaps while on that unforgetdebatable movie with Jan, or Sunday when we Locavore-d and Aura-ed and Cab Cafe-d, or in the midst of all those Viber messages that flew between Bridge and me — well, ’twas sometime then when I thought about THE idea: 40 things to do for my 40th.
What started off as random shiz blurted out while I’s munching on my calzone is now turning out to be a rather exciting prospect for my birthday year ahead. And take it by the horns I shall, because damnit, I’ve three words for ya: Best. Year. Yet.
Oye.
The goal is to create a spectrum of experiences — 40 in all, across my 40th year — to wake me up from my reverie, see things in a new light; to know my friends better, make more of them, learn about myself too; to feel like I’ve never ever felt before, and perhaps find answers along the way. Yes, that’s what this is all about. In all these months, so many folks have been telling me to do this and that and while I’m grateful, I only needed to come to on my own. Thinking about the 40 makes me do a Cheshire cat grin inside and I know something’s changed.
The epiphany, the breakthrough, the newness of how I feel I can no longer contain. It was liberating to feel happy — not the skippity uppity happy that some dude brings, not the purrty frilly feels from new shoes or a billowy dress. For once, I cannot explain why I am here, this happiness. I just am.
Finally, Dee.
When I shared it amongst friends, I can tell they are all rooting for me, and as excited as I am. But a brainchild such as this begets some rules, I s’pose, and so it shall be written:
Do it within my means. Impossibly pricey adventures, and heck, those that will get in the way of my livelihood are certainly out of the question. I do have a lovely tribe and if somebody’s offered to provide help in any whichever way, I will take it as a sign to go the direction. It needn’t be Eat-Pray-Love grand; it need not be hip, but it does require enrichment; the soul, mind, heart kind.
Seek balance . I’ve never pretended to adore horror movies, extreme sports, or flying and will not begin to do so now. I may however may be convinced to try these under duress, provided it is within my means. When it ends, I hope to be able to say, yes there were 40 but truly it’s a wealth of experiences that were all-in-all just right, neither way out there nor bleeeachk.
Create memories, with friends and fam. One never makes it to 40 without somebody, and so each I must share with one or two or most of my tribe. The idea is: it isn’t just my party, and as Miley had crooned, it’s a party and we can do what we want, love who want. I cannot thank my crew enough for all the years they got my back and this is how we shall celebrate friendships, old and new, and really discover what it means. It will be my 40th, but it will be fat with everyone’s love.
Refrain from over-chronicling. I take pictures when the moment calls for it and there are days when I won’t feel like it but just because there’s no photo to show for doesn’t make less of an experience. And so it’s alright if I don’t write about it, or maybe if I just want to forget one of ’em, haha; it won’t kill me, promise.
Think fun, firsts, fulfilling. But I won’t sweat it. Too much. Life’s a joke I’m hearing for the first time, so I will laugh while the punch line’s still hot.
Stoked? I am! They say it begins here. #ThisIs40, and this is how we roll.
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Pictured: Kawayan Cove beach
Finally Dee 