I remember months ago, talking to a group of friends at dinner about a blank canvas, and how every morning when you wake up, you can be whoever you want. Today doesn’t have to carry the weight of yesterday, and when you treat each day as a blank canvas, it changes everything about your world.
By the time you read this I’ll be 31. I don’t feel 31. I still feel, in certain ways, like a kid. Maybe it’s my creativity. Maybe it’s because I still do what I did back then (basketball, write, record, computers, video games). I haven’t quite grown up yet, and I hope I never will. I’m frozen in time, as the same person from many years ago, just better at the things I’m passionate about, and with less hair and more bills.
I remember a year ago, leading up to 30, how stressed I was. I was leaving my twenties, and that bothered me. Ironically, that year turned out to be one of my favorite years ever. So this time, I’m not stressed at all. I understand that the year doesn’t matter: they’re all just blank canvases. Who will I be tomorrow? Who will I be next month? Who will I be a year from now? That person is decided upon each day, the second I open my eyes—and at 31, I appreciate those canvases more than ever.