For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.—Steve Jobs
[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Every year about this time, in the gap between my photography anniversary and my birthday, I hit this period of existential angst as the universe seems to force me to look into a mirror and answer the questions of who and what I am. Almost every year, I spend the first few days of this reflection totally depressed and somewhat despondent as I consider just how much I wanted to do compared to how little was actually achieved. Then, I snap out of that funk and spend the rest of the year trying to figure out how to make the next year better. Sometimes it works, but this year it didn’t.
As a result, I am dragging you, dear reader, along with me on my journey this week as I more openly consider what I am. Am I a photographer? A writer? A musician? A cripple? A father? A lover? Or just a blowhard with an over-sized ego trying to get attention? There is at least one person who would answer affirmatively for each of those questions, and none of them would be totally incorrect. We are all complex, multi-faceted individuals and if we gave your life the same level of examination we might find even more questions worth asking. I’ll admit to having an ego, but I consider it an occupational necessity. More importantly, is the ego justified?
What I think is important for me this year is not so much a matter of identity, which is why I’m not asking who I am, but more a matter of definition, hence what I am.  Who I am can be superficial, but what I am runs deeper and forces one to consider in what areas one is truly effective, where we make a difference, and to what degree we understand what we’re doing. Defining what I am should, to a limited point of reason, provide a more solid vision of how to plan for the next year, playing off strengths and determining whether to shore up weaknesses or let them float away.[/one_half]
[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I think I can readily admit that one thing I am not is overly neat. We live in a world where people with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) set the standard for personal organization and clutter-free living. What we’re ignoring is that being so driven to have a place for everything and everything in its place is a disorder; a recognized mental deficiency that prevents one from accepting the world as it is: messy. I’m not OCD about anything except maybe my coffee cup; don’t touch it.
Where the strongest battle lies is whether I am more a photographer or a writer. Do I communicate better with pictures or with words? On these pages, I blend both, but is that working; which one is stronger? How many people read the articles versus just looking at the pictures? When we look at income, revenue from writing and revenue from photography have been almost even this year; depressing, but even, which would indicate there is a similar value to both. But is one dominant over the other?
A term that is coming into its own, perhaps to the point of cliché, is using the word “creative” as an identifier. The use is especially strong among advertising and marketing agencies trying to maximize the multiple skills of a limited number of people in order to hold down personnel costs. As a result, instead of 40-member teams, each with a different role, we see ten-member teams of “creatives” who wear multiple hats. That definition seems to fit what I am, at least for now. I’m going to try it on, take it for a spin around the block, and see what happens.
charles i. letbetter, creative. Perhaps a bit pretentious, but accurate.[/one_half_last]