It's really been some time
since I last heard this play on the radio. It was the same year that I graduated
from high school, and I felt it was hella good advice as I'd
commence through another phase of my life. I've realized that I am
such an insecure being that whenever I feel this insecurity to have consumed me
I try to read this essay or song or whatever you call it. Remember
when Paula Cole sings about "And it's me who is my enemy...Me who
beats  me up...Me who makes the monsters...Me who strips my confidence...?"
That exactly describes what I've felt over the past years. But for now, I'm
taking Baz Luhrmann's advice...

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of
'99:

Wear Sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future,
sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own
meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never
mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've
faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how
fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that
worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never
crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle
Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put
up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're
ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with
yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If
you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank
statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do
with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know
still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're
gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have
children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the
funky chicken on your 75th wedding annversary. Whatever you do, don't
congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are
half-chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be
afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument
you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living
room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you
feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be
gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your
past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious
few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle,
because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you
were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave
before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it
makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise.
Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll
fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have
a trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse.
But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're
40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with
those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts
and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.