The twenties were, indeed, roaring for me.  I didn't so much as bat an eye when I left nineteen behind.  I felt as if I had ten more years to party. As it turned out, I did. After college, the “discos” and smoky bars turned into the beach, travels abroad as I took the growing-up show on the road, declared my independence and ended up in Southern California. Technology was on the up and up.  What a blast I had discovering the beginning of adulthood. I worked at launching my career  and found my niche in MarComm at Quarterdeck, Corporation in Santa Monica, California where I had my hand at doing copywriting for software such as QEMM, Cleansweep and DesQviewX.  I worked harder still at packing the most fun I could into life. Birthdays came and went, and I could not have cared less.   When I looked in the mirror and saw a thirty-year-old, things got a little stickier. A bunch of us so-called “career women” even thought about having kids – with or without Dads!  Then, I realized that time was of the essence if I was going to have everything I ever wanted: marriage, children, someone to have pillow fights with. California was everything I needed it to be as a young woman, but if I was going to accomplish my lifelong dreams, I thought perhaps I'd better head back to the homeland.  Back here, chances were better that men not only would commit to a lunch date the following week, but might go for much more.  I was right. My thirties were very prolific. All the 14 years in Los Angeles - I met, lived in with a fiancée (almost married twice but never did – call me a runaway bride, if you will), and got a chance to “play house” and experience keeping house for someone. But a visit from the stork or wedding bells seemed elusive.  So many exciting things ensued that seemed like an adventure till I got to age 38.  It was the same year mom got ill, we packed our bags and went back to Manila, where I opted to stay and care for mom (God rest her soul – I still miss her).  It was back here that I met the man who shared with me the wonders of procreation. A union that gave way to the very smart, handsome endearing, Keoni Nikolai. His estranged Dad is now living in California, and I, now have my 5-year-old son, to help me blow out forty sumthin’ candles each birthday!

Now what? If I’m able to make a wish and to not be the introspective freak that I am, I'd wish to remain on this path I've made for myself. Marriage?  I guess just like any normal girl I have this imagery of how I would wanna have mine, but because I am not like any ordinary girl (ahem!)  it isn’t something I long for.  I leave that all up to the Big Boss up there.  I’m keener about staying healthy enough to keep on working so Keoni could enjoy his weekend trips to the mall with Grandpa or romp about the farms in OZ and visit Uncle Choy, Aunt Vicky and Ate Bianca.  I'd like my son to continue to grow and amaze me with his fresh-faced enthusiasm. I'd like to continue nurturing my friendships as best I can and to have the privilege of watching Dad grow older gracefully for many more years to come. These are goals, I suppose. But "maintenance" isn't something I can wrap my spirited, ambitious self around for the next ten years.  By this point in life, I know myself pretty well. I've come to accept that if I wasn't a size six at twenty, I can't expect to be a size six now. Or.. could I?  With today’s technology, it isn’t impossible.  They say 40 is the  new 30, and at 40, new endeavors may still be explored.  And with a little help from Science, looking good at 40 is achievable!  I’m not one for cosmetic surgery but I’m all for keeping healthy, pampering one’s self, relaxing and looking great.  The years have been kind to me, I can’t complain.  In fact, most people can’t tell my real age.  I guess I’m blessed with youthful looks and genetically thank my Dad for that. He just turned 80 but doesn’t look a day older than 70.  The wonders of technology provide us with the so called “fountain of youth.’  A little nip and tuck perhaps?  To those who could afford it, hey, party on!  I will expound on the procedures next issue. 

I know what I can let go of and what I need to work out so that I don't feel anxious. And, I'm telling you, I need something that I can strive for during the next decade.  I'm still a bit of a dreamer and catch myself drifting into a dreamlike state once in a while.  I’m relentless and keep on thinking of new things to try and do and don't know when to stop. One day, though, I did. As I was walking to the taxi stop on my way to work as I do every single day, I saw a tree not unlike all the others, but on that day, it stood out to me. And so I stopped. Maybe it was because it was raining, or perhaps it’s because of the fact that the leaves had fallen off the trees due to the heavy rains.  I don't know why, but in that instant, I knew what I was supposed to do with this next chapter of my life.  That tree stood out to me, because, overnight, the leaves had fallen and revealed what keeps it all together: its trunk, its backbone-lustrous and strong and reaching toward the sky. As I looked around, with both feet firmly planted on the ground, my woods were no longer a blur. They were vast and rich with possibilities. I felt a sense of discovery I hadn't had, or taken the time to have, in a very long time. It made me excited to go on. Even though I'd be moving in the same direction I'd been going all along, it would be with a new focus. 

In my forties, I'm going to pay attention to something I'd almost lost track of: myself.  I'll be moving forward, not only as someone's wife or mother, sister or daughter or friend, but as the woman I've become somewhere along the way. In this decade, I intend to slow down and think and appreciate and learn. And even if I have no great new accomplishment to show for the next ten years, I know the process will be most gratifying.