You’ll start hearing things you didn’t hear before. Leaving gigs early because of badly-mixed sound will become normal. (Oh, and god forbid you try to keep a crystal beaded necklace a secret.)
Stay away from designers. You’ll learn about things like “kerning” and “whitespace” and, while some of the things you loved before begin to look hurried and unkempt, simple things you never noticed before will become pinnacles of beauty.
Don’t fall in love with a cook. Nothing will ever taste as good as what he makes by hand. And one day, you’ll wake up, and food will no longer be fuel – it will be a deliberate, careful, hand-crafted act of love. A shared joy.
Avoid partnering with a photographer. You’ll start to see the world differently. Light will become a living thing, ever-changing, interactive. Whether you like it or not, you’ll learn that you’re worthy of being captured. Remembered. Loved. And you’ll start pointing lenses at him, too.
Try not to fall for a musician. Whether you’re holding hands during a symphony performance or dancing wildly on a dusty, pulsating dancefloor, the thrill of being able to connect with music and each other simultaneously is rare and cannot be superseded.
Steer clear of old souls. Together, you’re ancient, able to sense the endless march of time in either direction, but can still look each other in the eyes and acknowledge this tiny moment – where our physical bodies have somehow enabled consciousness, and where we can truly see each other for what we are – as a beautiful, frightening, terrifying, irreplaceable experience.
(Happy birthday, Jesse ❤️)