Remember This?

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 anniversary. 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.

~Baz Luhrmann