You The Birthday
On Doing The Most and Living Your Fucking Life
Today I turned 35.
I’ve been thinking about what that means. Not in the “where did the time go” way people talk about birthdays once you hit your thirties. More like: What do I want the next year of my life to feel like?
And I keep coming back to the same answer: I want to do the absolute most.
There’s this trend going around—”You the birthday” (y’all probably tired of it by now, I know)—when someone’s doing the most. Making it about them. Taking up space. Believing they deserve to be celebrated.
People say it like it’s a bad thing.
But at 35, I’m thinking: What’s wrong with doing the most? In a society where people are running scared AF—scared to fail, scared to be seen, scared to want more than they’re “supposed” to—doing the most is an act of resistance.
Doing the most doesn’t mean being loud for the sake of it. It means refusing to shrink to make other people comfortable.
It means telling anyone who’ll listen about that project keeping you up at night. Your barista. Your Uber driver. Your cousin’s girlfriend at Thanksgiving. Not because you’re desperate—because you believe in it enough to risk looking foolish.
It means singing on the subway. Emailing your entire family about your show. Asking people to support your crowdfunding campaign even though rejection feels like confirmation of every doubt you’ve ever had about yourself.
It means making art about the hard stuff—your childhood, your heartbreak, your failures—and not apologizing for it being “too personal.”
It means showing up to your friend’s house unannounced when they’re in a funk. Because sometimes the most radical thing you can do is refuse to let someone spiral alone.
Doing the most means living like your life actually matters. Because it does.
The people who call you “extra” or “a lot” or “too much”? They’re usually the ones who’ve convinced themselves that playing small is the same as being humble. That wanting less makes you noble.
It doesn’t. It just makes you smaller.
What 35 Looks Like From Here
Right now, as I’m writing this, NATIVES is wrapping Day 3. We’re in the middle of a production schedule that shouldn’t work on paper but will anyway because we’re insane. Two 15-page episodes. Five days. A crew that believes in the story as much as I do.
At 34, I danced with strangers in an LA club after losing at an award show. And I mean danced—not the polite sway, but the full-body-ody-ody, I’m-the-shit kind of dancing. Because we showed up! We made something beautiful. And losing doesn’t erase that.
I got a cochlear implant and learned to hear the world differently—literally and metaphorically.
I kept my collective alive and onboarded four interns during its make-or-break year because some infrastructure is worth fighting for even when it’s hard.
And now? I’m opening a creative concept studio in NYC.
I know. What. The. F*ck.
But you know what? I’m doing exactly what I’ve always wanted to do. And so should you.
The Studio
I’m opening a space designed for human velocity—for people who need someone to believe in them out loud while they build their wings.
Here’s what I’m thinking: The first 5 people get to test it out. A raw 1,100 sq ft natural light space for up to 10 hours at the launch price. Near Astoria/Kaufman Studios.
You bring your wild idea. I bring in my team, some hands-on collaboration. We make it real together.
This is for the ones with crazy ideas. The ones with ideas they’re afraid to say out loud. The ones who’ve been told to be grateful for the mundane.
If you’re reading this thinking “I have this idea but...”—stop. The “but” is the thing keeping you small.
Reply to this or email me and tell me: your wildest creative idea, why now, what’s been holding you back.
First 5 bookings get May dates. After that, waitlist at full price.
The Point Is, I’m Grateful
I’m grateful that I’ve lived long enough to know what I’m capable of. To stop apologizing for wanting more. To build the things I wish existed when I was starting out.
You the birthday means making it about you unapologetically.
You the weekend means creating experiences people don’t want to end.
I’m doing both. And I’m inviting you to do it with me.
You don’t change your life by being careful. You change it by deciding you’re done living in fear.
Today I rode my new bike in my kitchen. I’m producing a series this weekend that people said was too ambitious. I’m opening a studio next month that might fail spectacularly or might change everything.
And you know what? I’d rather crash trying than never take off at all.
Something tells me you would too. So let’s make something that lasts longer than a weekend but feels just as good.
If you’re not booking but this resonated: Drop a comment. What would you create if doing the most wasn’t something to apologize for?
P.S Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday and/or will be celebrating with me all Taurus season. I appreciate you. Always.
-B