Lightning strikes Lake Michigan offshore of the Chicago skyline as seen from Whihala Beach in Whiting, Ind., Thursday, May 3, 2012.

This past October, I found myself on the stage of a local theater, having a one-on-one production meeting with the director of a show I was lighting there. Set pieces, still in various stages of completion, became the walls of our impromptu meeting room. We canvassed the stage together and discussed specific lighting cues planned for different moments in the script.

The sweet smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the theatre and, perhaps, was partially responsible for our conversation eventually veering away from the particulars of the show and to those of our personal lives. As we discussed changes in both of our social landscapes that had recently occurred, the director looked me in the eyes and asked, “When did you realize that you’d grown up and become a man?” It didn’t take very long for me to respond, “This year.”

I know, I know – you’re probably scratching your heads wondering how a 30-year-old could not feel like a grown man. You see, until recently, other than the government saying I was an “adult” at age 18, I didn’t really have much else to qualify what it meant to feel like a “grown-up”. Even into my late twenties, I felt the same youthful energy I’d known for most of my teenage years. Working in industries surrounded by energetic and passionate actors, dancers, and other artists doesn’t hurt one’s sense of youth, either.

Members of the group Mariachi Acero, comprised of high school students from the North Las Vegas area, pose at the base of Frenchman Mountain in Las Vegas, Nev., Wednesday, April 18, 2012.

2012 brought with it a notable shift in my thoughts and feelings on life, however, along with new senses of maturity and responsibility. Changes in my personal relationships, growth and setbacks on the work front, and even the death of a friend’s pet I’d grown to love as my own all contributed to this paradigm shift, I’m sure. Besides, all of those things make for a much more logical-sounding explanation for feeling older than the errant grey hairs atop my head that now plague my view in the bathroom mirror. A big part of this increased feeling of maturity, however, occurred for me this year on the work front.

Now more than ever, I’ve found myself caring less and less about the specific gear used on a particular production, and more about how the gear is used in conjunction with the designer’s / photographer’s abilities. To put it more bluntly, I’ve discovered that being a “gear snob” is a waste of emotions.

Back when I was 18, I used to take every opportunity to put as many moving lights into shows I was designing as possible. Fast-forward to that production meeting back in October, where I actually suggested NOT renting more moving lights, and instead, using the theater’s available inventory creatively to save money. 18-year-old Guy would have ran for the hills! The fact that less is now more has ushered in a new level of maturity for me as a designer.

I also rolled my eyes this past May when a colleague