I'll never forget how I felt when Stacy told me. I was standing in the living room. She as sitting on the arm of the couch. "John, I'm pregnant." I didn't think about what I thought I would think about in that moment. It wasn't "Oh my God!" or "I'm gonna be a daddy!" or "Yee-haw! My boys can swim!" The first thought that entered my mind was gray and fuzzy. I heard her, but my mind was behind my ears. Then the tingly sensation. It was like my blood suddenly turned into ice and I could feel the valves in my heart suddenly struggling to do what they had been doing just fine for 26 years. Somehow I was instantly aged. Then the lights came back on. Excitement. Pride. The idea of opening a new chapter. Maybe it's just the journalist in me, but I felt that simply spreading the news was the most exciting part of the process. After all, the experience isn't my own. My daughter is also a granddaughter, a niece and a great-granddaughter. She already has friends who she doesn't even know. She's now the number-one most asked-about topic in my conversations with friends and family - and I'm okay with it. My Facebook page is covered with her face.
She brings joy to many people. My first fatherly wish is for her to understand that idea someday. For the people who have seen her smile, she is joy.
As Stacy and I fight to keep social lives and try not to disgust our Facebook friends with over-sharenting, we feel especially blessed during moments like the one shown in the above photo. It's my daughter with her great grandma. I can't describe how I feel when I look at it. Words don't do it justice. These profound, mind-blowing, heart-melting moments are why I love being a dad.
Things like this are what make my birthdays happy. My 9-year-old self would be a little disappointed (mainly because birthday wishes ≠ Legos or Hot Wheels). Nineteen-year-old me might even shrug his shoulders. I don't care. Things change, and so do the things I value. As the anti-materialistic saying goes: There's much more to life than toys and money.
I'm intensely grateful for my friends and family. These are the types of people who say "Good morning!" and sincerely mean it. They stick with people like me and - if I don't see them often enough in person - swing by my Facebook page from time to time.
Nicknames from this year's birthday wishes:
- Tiny (The gold standard since 2004.)
- Brother
- Johnny (Favored amongst my cousins.)
- Big John
- Johnathon (Favored amongst my parents and their siblings. Still not recognized by spell check, BTW.)
- Mr. Photographer
- Cuz
- J.Nel
- Little John
- Favorite Brother-in-Law (he only has one)
- Johnny Nels
These are the names by which I am known and by which I feel loved.
I don't care what my birth certificate says. It's just a number, and it's also just a name.
If you know me well, you know that Stacy and I have gone through many milestones within the past few years. I'm not sure if it's because we're impatient or because we're just plain crazy. One thing is for certain - We've been crazy blessed, but the best thing is yet to come.
I'm happy to announce that the play-doh-ish looking thing above is our first child, a girl. She's due July 5. This means Stacy and I have about 102 days until we experience the biggest change of our lives.
I'm incredibly nervous. In fact, I debated whether I should blog about it simply because I want things to be perfect. If any one thing in my life can be perfect, I pray that the little girl in this little orange mashed-potato sculpture is it.
Being pregnant (er, having a pregnant wife - however you want to look at it), is intense. It's exciting and scary and it forces a self-assertion unlike anything else. Since we've found out ('bout 5-ish months ago), I've managed to keep my sanity while Stacy becomes more and more beautiful every day.
Don't get me wrong here. I wasn't expecting pregnancy to be this tv-drama-like, cry-all-over-the-place kind of problem. I've been praying for and about this for a very long time. As Stacy and I go about our daily suburbanite routine of work/eat/play/sleep with the understanding that things are going to change whether we like it or not, and I'm ok with that. The nature of change (however you look at it) has knocked us up, but not out. To my 20-something friends and other hooligan aquaintances: I'm still alive. Very alive.
I can't wait to introduce you to our little girl sometime in July. Until then, I'll try my best to keep you updated.
Franzen received lots of attention when Freedom was published back in late 2010, so I put it on my Christmas list. Stacy bought it for me. I read it mainly before bed, about 5 pages at a time due to my tiredness, which probably ruined the momentum of Franzen's writing for me.
I'm giving it 3 out of 5 because it wasn't as good as everybody said it was. I try to read objectively, but The Corrections (which I would rate 4.5 out of 5, BTW) was simply more fun to read. I spent a huge amount of time on this book and didn't get the payout that I usually get from novels of this length.
On the plus side, I do still have respect for Franzen's ability to describe, in great detail, the moments and emotions that the characters share. He's obviously an obsessive writer, but I felt a little underwhelmed with this particular novel.
Favorite intrinsic message: Acting on freedom is more important than having it. Freedom is only as good as what you do with it.
Favorite scruffy rock star character: Richard Katz
Favorite funny scene: When Walter (the progressive songbird-loving protagonist) tries to persuade his stubborn conservative suburbanite neighbor to keep her house cat indoors.
Thanks to an array of electronic screens in various shapes and sizes - when we're not consuming material things - we're consuming media.
We tune in to anything that wants to hum a tune for us.
In the process, we're loosing the important space and time to create our own ideas, our own words or our own tunes.
According to the inspiringly creative British comedian Jon Cleese, brilliant creativity isn't all that hard to achieve if we follow one simple rule:
Set boundaries of time and boundaries of space. Tune out of others so you can tune into yourself.
This is precisely why the Great American Husband enjoys puttering in his garage. He may have never realized it but, by spending some time at his workbench, he's essentially creating boundaries of time and space from the constant hum of everyday life.
You know that feeling when you catch that big idea in the shower? When you remember that actor's name while you're brushing your teeth? That's because your brain is acting within these boundaries.
I firmly believe that we can all can tap into our inner Monty Pythons, our own Jack Johnsons, our own Annie Leibovitzs, or our own Picassos if we just set ourselves aside.
Don't get me wrong here: We need to consume and to draw inspiration from things, but we also need to give back. To share and inspire.
The past year or so has been the biggest of my entire life. In the flurry of decisions, events, changes, additions and challenges, I've failed to tell you about most of it. This stuff is too important for me to hide.
Starting today - due to my re-discovered motivation (and because my wife says I should) - I'm going to share much more of my life with you. It takes time, but I'm going to commit to this. Even after getting hitched and buying a home, I've still got some commitment left to use. Please hold me to it.
Although this was in the context of social marketing for business, my friend Scott at 9 Clouds Inc. said it best in a recent blog post: "If you do not share, you are invisible."
I'm here to climb out of obscurity and share what's worth sharing. Let's do this.
"Art is a guarantee of sanity. That is the most important thing I have said." - Louise Bourgeois
I found this quote today, and it really struck a chord.
My friends would agree that our minds have never been more in the present than they are today. We're working. We're blogging. We're tweeting. We're buying. We're building. But why?
Let me pose a bold answer here: Our efforts, no matter what they involve - photographing, caring, volunteering, sweating, believing - are an artistic expression of the highest degree. They create our lasting self identity (that's why I picked that photo for this post, get it?). An identity that is deeper than our work or its material products. This expressed identity keeps us "sane" and it lasts long after we're dead.
I believe that all people are naturally good and conscientious on the inside, but for some reason or another, many have trouble letting their true selves show. I would also argue that one cause of insanity is identity confusion. People want to contribute to this world, but they fail at finding their intended path to do so. What should have lasted did not. This is why it is inherently important for us to express ourselves beyond ourselves - to create, care, write, volunteer, ask, sweat and believe.
This is how (and why) to always do your best. In a nutshell: Put your natural good, conscientious intent into action, and it will be your contribution to this world and it will also be your lasting identity.
I'm certainly not the first person to have this thought, but it's pretty deep for an idiot photographer, eh?
This is my friend Sanford. He's a two-year-old Chlorophytum comosum (spider plant) who lives in my standard grey cubicle here in Sioux Falls. His father, McKennan, lives at my other standard grey cubicle in Brookings.
Sanford enjoys sunning himself under fourescent lights, listening to complaints, making messes, taking naps and drinking leftover coffee.
He's a good friend, but sometimes I wish we had less in common.
"It's hard to be successful today because everybody and their brother can afford a 18MP DSLR and set up a website on the cheap."
I used to agree with this statement, but it's completely false. Sure, cameras are getting better and cheaper by the month, but is the value of being a good photographer also getting cheaper?
It's never been more easy to get lost in the mix, but it's also never been easier to stand out. If a photog knows how to create a real-life, face-to-face social connection with a client and can actually give a crap about that client's needs, the rest will fall in place.
With more affordable, more powerful cameras, there's a lot of great photography happening out there, but there's also more crap. Instead of throwing disdain and negativity at the struggling beginners, I throw celebration and appreciation at the good. Instead of telling my friends why somebody shouldn't hire my competition, show them why they should hire me. It's a much more worth-wile activity.
Besides, is that new camera going to make sales calls, answer e-mails, pay bills, send proofs, design albums, order prints, drive to the post office, post to a blog, hand out business cards or edit photos until 3 a.m.? You need much more than a camera to be a photographer.
My advice: Instead of trolling your competition's websites and feeling threatened, go take some freaking amazing photos somewhere and then post them wherever you can. That's why you bought your camera in the first place.
2. Claiming passion instead of demonstrating it.
"About me: I have a passion for photography."
Good for you. Join the club. If you were really put here on God's green earth to take photos, then why hasn't your portfolio been updated in 4 years? Actions speak louder than words, and your customers will be able to read between the lines. One needs vision and motivation to be a good photographer. Great photographers create ideas and then fulfill them with photos. As Chase Jarvis put it: Good photographers need to "Create. Share. Sustain."
My advice: If you're telling your potential clients that you have a "passion for photography" you might as well tell them that you have a "passion" for taking their money. Here's how to de-grease your sales pitch: Instead of saying "I have a passion for photography." you should be more specific. Tell them that you have (for example) "a passion for helping people preserve and appreciate the important things in their lives." You do, right?
Satisfying a passion is powerful. It built my portfolio, it serves my clients and it makes me feel pretty darn good. Because of this, I firmly believe that real passion leads us to new places - physically and emotionally. Stop being a grease ball. Be real to yourself and go feed your passion.