I have a couple more months before turning forty. 40. Four-Oh. Quarenta. Ugh. Just looking at it sends shivers and gives me pause. I’m somehow in disbelief at how much time has passed yet, so little have I achieved. Well, at least by my standards. I remember a checklist of things I should have accomplished by this age, and somehow, I am nowhere near even a fourth of its completion. Man, all those years just sneaked up on me.
They say that age is a state of mind. You are only as old as you feel. I seem to have stopped counting at age 25, and continue to live my life (recklessly) as a twenty-something. I am blessed to look younger than my age, so thankfully, I don’t have a daily reminder every time I see my reflection. I have however, other reminders of my age. The other day, I was asked by an audaciously brash head-hunter, what my age and gender was. In this day and age, I reminded him those items should not be an issue, but then again, this is the Philippines. I’ll reserve thoughts on this on another entry. I just realized when filling up a form, I now belong to a different age-bracket.(OMG! It just hit me, I am now what they call “middle-aged”.) When I logged into a new game I was trying out, I was asked my age. And admitting to playing such a game at my age suggests that it was…unbecoming. It seems that the older I get, the more unsavory I am for a job, a coverage or a specific service. I now am part of a different segment, where my tastes, thoughts and proclivities are deemed no longer “new” or novel.
I guess more than turning forty, I need to get used to the concept of not being “new” and “fresh”. Moreso, being “un-new” is not a bad thing. Perhaps familiar and predictable are not exactly lesser, inconsequential things to be. I guess more than accepting how you look once you’ve reached a certain age, is first accepting that there are certain things more befitting to a certain age. For instance, to be broke, clueless, vacillating from one project/job/interest to the next, was considered “normal” and even romantic and rebellious, in your twenties. To be so in your thirties, is deemed risque, yet bordering on a wake-up call to straighten up. But to be so in your forties, I would think, is just darn plain unacceptable. Or, indicates a mid-life crisis of some sort. Thankfully, I have a couple of months left to mull over the intricacies, nuances and ramifications of being forty.
I came across this quote somewhere: “The forties are the old age of youth,and the youth of old age“. This is definitely true for me. Hopefully, by the time I officially become “it“, I would’ve come up with a list of things about what it’s like being forty. Either they’re fabulous things, or effed-up things. Until then, allow the incredulity of the whole thing to sink in.