Before every birthday I like to look back at the previous year and take inventory. 33 isn't a particular monumental birthday, but every one is in it's own way, especially the way that says "hey be glad you aren't dead." I also just objectively like the number 3—I was born on the 31st, and every address I've ever had contained at least one 3.

It's tempting to say that my life hasn't changed significantly between ages 32 and 33, although of course that's untrue. We make life-changing decisions every single day whether we realize it at the time or not. Sometimes big things turn out to be small things and the small things turn out to be the big things and if we're lucky we'll realize that it's only with time that we actually know the difference.

A photo of my 30th birthday celebration popped up on Facebook yesterday, and out of the thirteen people (and one dog) in attendance, only five (myself included) still live in New York. We're all still friends, but moving changes you, just as you're changed by the movement of others. In fact, I think it is only through others that we really change.

Francesca and I have made a tradition of having our auras read in Chinatown, whenever things are feeling unsettled and every year at the around same time. During our most recent session, I went first and after we were both done the woman who had taken our photographs couldn't locate Francesca's. She took her photo again, but as mine was being read Francesca noticed that the shirt in my photograph was actually hers—it was a double exposure of both of us.

We are all double (and triple, and quadruple) exposures—nothing but a collection of other people's stories, fed through our own internal Wonka Wash, forwards and backwards until we believe them to be our own. My own story has hundreds of pages where nothing much happens, bright spots when the words seem to leap off the page and dance around, and dark chapters where the narrative rambles and seems lost forever. But I wouldn't be me without all of the people I've met, all of the books I've read and the countless other influences—both obvious and subconscious—that I've encountered over the last 33 years.

After we realized the mistake, Francesca asked that my photo be taken again, and the above is the result. Wholly different than the one before, no longer a mixture of two auras but purely mine. I am who I am because of the influence of others, but the sum of those parts is unique to me. I can't replicate the last 33 years and I can't possibly predict the next 33. But I feel more and more confident every day in who I am and extraordinarily grateful for every single person, place and thing that I carry inside of me.