Six weeks in review...

The pelting rain against my windshield showered volumes over my deep pounding dance music. I had known this series of storms were going to hit the coast for days now but with only four more hours of driving, San Francisco would be my final destination. The end to a very long journey it seems, that started six and a half years ago in Dallas. Where I had first stepped off that one way train which carried me all the way from the beaches of San Diego; the leaping off point.


After all but hydroplaning over the congested Grapevine and dodging mad eighteen wheeler's and their road sprays, the sun light finally sabered through the broken clouds. The rolling hills ahead with their newly sprouted blades of grass signified a new beginning to me. Somewhat profound to my present awakening to relocate to the west coast. I had hiked big hills like these countless times throughout the ages in San Diego. A personal joy that had sadly been missing from my life for more than half a decade. I remembered the last time I had made this drive, which seemed an eternity ago, when I had tagged along with Chelsea to San Francisco and insisted that we pull over to climb one of the tall peaks on our way back to Encinitas. Why this obsession with climbing hills is beyond me. I'm just wondering if this need for accomplishing the extreme heights will lead to something bigger, like Mt. Everest? Ya-right! Like I really wanna die. I've had a few of my own close calls on the side of a mountain but I'm not stupid. Now, this stupidity doesn't include the metaphoric balance of nature. When it comes to personal obstacles, it doesn't matter what size of mountain God might throw in front of me, conquering it would be an understatement.


Owning an umbrella was my first lesson upon my arrival in San Francisco. Though Clint was nice enough to let me borrow his for a few days, my Chuck Taylor's were soaked to the bone by the end of my first venture out into the city. I thought it would be cool to walk to all my destinations, attempting to get some bearings straight with the lay out of all the eclectic neighborhoods. Dude...it was freezing! But standing on the sidewalk in the misty rain, waiting for a bus to take me somewhere was the last thing I wanted to do and I sure as hell wasn't ready to master the BART or MUNI system yet. I had asked a few weirdoes on Market Street for some directions but soon realized I was pretty much in the wrong part of town and completely lost. It was a total "duh" moment, I can admit that.


But at the same time, there was something very empowering about being in a new city. The energy in San Francisco is somewhat on the mild side compared to New York, but still very independent. I knew that some day soon I would definitely mold into part of the equation, and my total awareness of the city would be chalked up to experience.

It took me a few extra long blocks to realize that I was the only one utilizing my umbrella after the rain had stopped. But when the afternoon sun pierced through the murky grey clouds, I saw a cute couple pass by me who both had big smiles on their faces. When I turned around to see what they were looking at, a huge rainbow towered over the city. It was so big, I couldn't even fit the entire bow in my camera.

So here I am, a thirty nine year old single male who is getting ready for his freshman year in college in the city of San Francisco. I start classes tomorrow. I'll be studying all aspects of film making but focusing primarily on cinematography and directing. Though I already have one feature film that I have written and directed, which is currently in its final stages of production, there is no end to learning in my world. This world of ours is constantly evolving. Ideas are born during every moment in time. Can you imagine if there was the CGI, digital world around when Fleming was directing his master pieces, which would later define the year in pictures? Imagine the Wizard of Oz in HD digital 3-D...


Okay, I first began writing this post almost six weeks ago. Why I didn't finish it is beyond me. I guess I felt (at the time) that I really didn't have a lot of interesting material to write about. But I was totally wrong. The emotional experience I had while traveling from Dallas to San Francisco was life altering. Not many people can do what I've done; that is, stopping everything to just pick up and go. Especially at thirty-nine. Most guys my age are married with children. But this is where I consider myself very fortunate. I'll admit; it might seem crazy to do something so drastic as quit your job, leave your apartment, say goodbye to your friends and head west. But I've done it before. Just like the time when I shaved my head without informing my agent before I did so. It was a risk, but I did land two modeling gigs shooting the next day because of my new look. And in a conservative town like Dallas, a shaved head was completely unheard of in the fashion world.


San Francisco: the newest chapter in my life. I have made some awesome new friends. I'm getting A's in all my classes thus far and I plan to keep it this way. My assignments are very complex but I take them all in stride. I look forward to posting my work on this site, once I start receiving them back from my professors. Miraculously, the hunt for a new apartment is finally coming to an end. I'll be able to fill everyone in on this move once I get settled. I also sold my truck. Yes...I know there are a few people out there who might have deeply exhaled once they've read this, (knowing what I went through to get my truck) which is a separate blog post in itself. But I really don't need a car in a city like San Francisco. The meters are twenty-five cents for three minutes. The tickets are over fifty dollars if the meter runs out. There is absolutely NO place to park almost anywhere in the city and if the meter runs out and it's been more than fifteen minutes, your car WILL get towed. Shall I tell you how much it would be to get it out of impound? You don't want to know. But everyone should know this: why own a car in a city where you don't need one? First of all, not having a car eliminates a car payment. Second, you don't have to pay for insurance. Third, you don't ever have to pay for gas and finally, you shed all those extra pounds walking. You see? I just killed four birds with one stone. And that, my dear friends, is a definite ERICKISM!

The Craigslist Theory

As easy and effortless my move to the west coast has unfolded, there is still one small factor that has become a huge burden at the moment; finding a place to live. I’ve been staying with my cousin Alex and his wife Natalia in San Mateo for the past five weeks. The experience with them has been both truly memorable and totally awesome. But, I've also been busy looking for a place in the city to end the additional two hour CAL Train and BART commute that I make four times a week, to and from the Academy.

I have a question for all you people out there; have any of you tried to find a place to live in San Francisco?

It’s absolutely nothing you might think it is. In the old days living in suburbia, I could just pick a town that I might like, drive around looking for “For Rent” signs, write down the phone number and make the phone call. Most of the time you can see the apartment during the same day. Not in San Francisco. But you see, there’s this system that’s been around for a while now, a means for mass communication over the Internet. This system is called Craigslist.

I’ve never used Craigslist before in my life, for anything. If I needed a car, I went to a dealership. If I needed a job, I went to the establishment. And if I needed a place to live, I drove around until I found one. I’ll say it again; not in San Francisco and especially not to find a place to live. I’ve been on Craigslist for five weeks now. I’ve seen several places that were "inhabited" by the weirdest people; having numerous experiences trying to locate this new homestead of mine.

So how many apartments had I seen? I couldn’t even recall as I drove around, searching for a parking space that Valentine’s evening. I had made yet another appointment to see a room available somewhere in the Castro and there was absolutely no parking within a mile radius of the address. The woman who owned the home assured me that there would be. This was the first red flag. How I found the place was a miracle in itself. The woman told me that it was an old Victorian home nestled between two modern apartment buildings and that I couldn’t miss it.

Well, I missed it alright. There wasn't a glimpse of an old Victorian home anywhere in sight. I had to call the woman over my cell phone so she can step out of her home and flag me down. The funny thing was, I was standing right in front of the house. Old Victorian…that was red flag number two. Then, there was the woman.

She carried a short handled purse over her shoulder (in her own home, mind you) as she stood at the rickety front door. Her long and frizzy, dyed red hair didn’t cover up all the grey roots that sprouted out from her pale and flaky scalp. Her gaunt features (the sheer sign of a vegan) only enhanced the ghoulish scene of an already moist and foggy evening that could have been mistaken for Halloween.

“We take our shoes off,” she said.

Now, I didn’t mind this of course. But as I reached down to untie my sneakers, I noticed the long vines of hair that hugged her chicken skinned legs. I almost barfed in my mouth. I plainly knew that this wasn’t gonna work out but I just didn’t have it in me to leave right then and there. What I needed was a camera.

The wooden floor creaked with every step as she walked me down the extra long hallway, which clearly revealed itself to be somewhat of a hostile. We passed by two doors that were marked A & B with cheap, hardware store stickers. Didn't I just leave Texas and the shot-gun homes I'd driven by so many times, I thought to myself?

“Here is your room,” she said.

When she opened the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes; it was a closet. It was an expensive closet, I might add.

“You’re asking how much?” I asked, trying to refrain my sarcasm.

“One thousand,” she answered, wth the overhead light in the glossy painted room giving her a jaundice hue. She looked me up and down, deciding to release her clutches from her baby-blanket purse. She smiled at me and asked me how long I had been looking for a place. I told her that I had just started. She now wanted to show me the kitchen. Humor me, I thought to myself.

All I could hear when we entered the kitchen were the sounds of frogs ribbiting from the back yard. A plethora of frogs, possibly hundreds, kept sounding off into the night behind the door leading to her back porch. I was startled for a moment, thinking that this could have possibly been her food source. Nah…it couldn’t be. She’s vegan. She showed me all the cupboard space that was already taken and assured me that I would be allowed a shelf in the refrigerator. Gee, thanks!

“And now for the best part,” she said, and she opened the back door.

All at once the orchestrated frog ribbits filled the kitchen as she escorted me out to the back door. Was I in the everglades? With a smile on her face, she did all but pick up a wand to conduct the frog symphony that empowered her back yard.

“How did you acquire so many frogs?” I asked.

“They’ve been very good to me these past years,” she said. “Isn’t it just beautiful?”

Now...I love nature, everyone. Just ask anyone who knows me. I appreciate beautiful things. But she actually thought that her frogs were going to be the final selling factor? Wow, I thought. She probably does eat them.

“Do you model?” she asked. “You’re very handsome.”

"Thanks,” I replied.

“So, do you like the place? I really hope you do. You’re fun to look at, too.”

And there went the final red flag, even though the first one was enough.

“Is it too expensive for you?" She said, probably seeing the angst on my face. "Look, why don’t we discuss it over a glass of wine,” she said, somewhat stepping into my space. “Maybe I can wave the deposit…”

Now, who wants to know what I did at this point? You guessed it! I wasn't about to copy-cat Woody Harrelson in "King Pin". I fled the tree huggin’, frog leg eatin’, old floozy who was tryin’ to get me to braid her leg hairs!

What do I have to say about this so called system of conveniently trying to find whatever you need over the Internet? This list (which I have found to be mentally abusive) can be either deceitful or in some cases, unforgiving. It doesn’t surprise me to hear about the fatalities of innocent people who have responded to ads, which they assumed led to a promising future.

“Haven't found a place to live yet, Erick? Have you checked Craigslist!"

"Fuck Craigslist!" I’ll remain the old fashioned guy that I am. I'm confident that networking through my own channels will ultimately lead me to that one special place that's been waiting just for me. What’s the old saying? Oh yes…good things come to those who wait. And that is, without a shadow of a doubt…an ERICKISM!

Are you kiddin' me?

Year 1, semester 1, week 1...

Moving right along, I really couldn't wait to tell you all about this...uh, well...I don't even know what to call him, actually. He's this student in my editing class. He's a "chick" in my vocabulary but I can see an ocean of vicious drag queens chasing me out of the Castro down market street, both chanting and labeling me as a homophobic bigot. Can you just see me running? But I'm really not a bigot (trust me) and I honestly think that Harvey Milk would get a big kick out of this as well. So, bare with me 'cause I just...(deep exhale) really have to get this off my chest.

My professor had split the class up into separate categories; directors, editors and production designers. He wanted us all to watch a scene from one of THE most remarkable films ever made. The film was The Godfather. Once we had all watched the scene that our professor chose for us, each student had to give his or her opinion on what we thought about the scene (as a director, editor or production designer). Everyone had interesting input. I was chosen to be an editor. Therefore, I had counted the amount of cuts in the scene, I knew the exact amount of lines that were looped (sorry about the film lingo if you don't understand) and I knew which match cuts were just a little off by milliseconds. I have a very keen eye for editing.

When it was time for "Miss Thing" to give his opinion about the scene, (he was chosen to be a director) upon hearing what "she" had to say, I was damaged for a moment. Let's give a little respect here, I apologize. With "his" clear coated finger nails and his tiny little, Louis Vuitton patterned tennis-shoe feet, (which were no bigger than a Barbie's) he looked at the professor as if he didn't speak any English. Now, just imagine a male's voice that's higher than it should be and I don't mean in volume. Now, imagine it an octave higher than that. Y'all with me? Cool. As he crossed his legs and swung his foot back and forth, he said he didn't get ANYTHING out of the scene. He said, that he hated old movies and he usually just tunes them out whenever he has to bare with one. Mind you, this is a kid who wants to be (remember the high pitched voice) an "On-air correspondent on "E" Entertainment." Interviewing big stars during their promotional movie junkets...

You're not fuckin' serious, are you? Okay, where should I start here? First of all, this kid...just considering the fact of wanting to be (remember the high pitched voice again) an "On-air correspondent on "E" Entertainment" is enough to send Steve Kmetko to his grave. I can see Steve howling right now, uncontrollably keeled over with laughter. I know this because Steve is a personal friend of mine and I know his sense of humor. Steve molded "E" Entertainment to what it is today. There would be no "E" if it wasn't for him. Steve may be gay but he's not Gloria Swanson! Of course, there's closet cased Ryan "Sea-Crust" who commands the stage now at "E", I believe, correct me if I'm wrong. I don't watch television anymore but if I did, I wouldn't want to see someone anchoring an entertainment show who knew nothing about film history. That's number one. Number two...butch it up, tulip! You're gayer than a parakeet! I don't think this kid could buy enough testosterone to drop the balls he was given, even if he had all the money in the world! Avoiding the risk of being sued, I unfortunately can't release a photo of him on my blog spot. But I was lucky enough to snap this one photo of him from behind. He's always in this position...doodling away, bored as hell, clueless to the real world around him. I'm sure his favorite movie of all time would be Avatar. I'm not sayin' Avatar isn't good James, I think you of all people would catch my drift in this situation.

Live and let live, I always say. You wanna run around in dresses while you're tuckin' your tinkle, go for it. You wanna open your mouth and let your purse fall out, go for it. There are some exceptions to the rule, mind you. Take Marilyn Manson for instance. Incredible visionary. Amazing musician. Very well spoken and he possesses an intelligence which is unmatched by other artists of his kind. He can wear dresses, wear make-up, parade himself in any manner that he pleases. He's informed, confident and knows what he's talking about. He's not a follower, he's a leader.

Here's the deal. There's no doubt in my mind where this kid is headed. He's in school after all. A school of the arts, mind you. I have several friends who thought they would make it in Hollywood in the film industry but ended up working as, "On air correspondents" with some gay cable network and all they do is base on famous people and what they wear. Robert Laughlin, for one, gets paid God knows how much money to rip people apart. And I know Robert very well. But you have to know something, classmate of mine, something you need to carry with you for the rest of your life; if it wasn't for the past, there would be no future. If it wasn't for George Lucas, there would be no James Cameron. Ask James some day...IF you interview him, he'll admit to that. And that's an ERICKISM!

No hard feelings...no regrets.

I can't tell you how many times I've attempted to post this entry. With so many things I need to complete when it comes to writing...I have no business working on anything else. So why do it? Why keep up with a blog spot? I've asked myself this same question for the past two weeks, ever since I first rolled into San Francisco. What can I possibly say that can make a difference to anyone out there who might be reading this?

When I first decided to launch this new blog, I had only one thing on my mind; document my experience in film school for the next two years. But why? To kill some time? No-that wouldn't be it because people can definitely quote me by saying, "I don't have time!" A common reply that I so frequently used during my early years in Hollywood. It's hard for me to get a grip on the fact that in June of this year, I'll be turning forty. What does this number mean by the way? Ten years to fifty? According to the band, 5 for Fighting, "You've only got one hundred years to live."

So, I guess this means that I'm middle aged. Maybe that's why I'm writing this blog, but certainly don't quote me yet because I may be wrong.

Do I have any regrets thus far? Not a one and that's a promise. I've always done everything I said I was going to do in my life and I'm still crossing them off my list. Married? No. Dating? Definitely not. Why you ask? I can answer that very simply and even in three words or less, but that would ruin the entire experience of this blog for you. The answer to those questions will come...but not today.

Most people my age are married or have been married several times over by now, with children. I have a very good friend (whom I've recently been reconnected with after almost twenty years) and she's already a grandma at forty! Woe...can I say it again? Woe...

People have stated (or have been opinionated in the sense) that I have done things the hard way in my life and it was time for me to start thinking, "long term" regardless of the huge accomplishments I've achieved. I assume it's because my hard work hasn't stiffened up my bank account yet. Although, these people could never say this to my face. They would inform one of my closest friends. Mind you, these are people that used to scrounge through their ashtrays for coins to buy a pack of cigarettes. After spending their hard earned, "tips" which they had snorted up their nose the night before. And they have a college degree as well. But, I guess that's the importance of marrying somebody with a little money now, isn't it? Or, when you're in your mid thirties, (or approaching forty) you have to find that perfect partner who can either meet you half way or completely take over financially. Ya-that's it. To help you buy that dream home you've always wanted. You better choose wisely. Make sure they make enough money, catch 'em before it's too late. When all the while you're praying to God that the dust doesn't settle down too heavily in your life and you realize that you have absolutely nothing in common with that person you married. Especially, romantically. But you're financially secure. That's all that matters, right? Relax, boys and girls. If you marry somebody rich you're not stupid.

So where might these egoistic opinions stem from? Peer pressure? Domestication? Well, it couldn't be experience. That would be the last thing it would be. You see, I'll tell you how it works in my book. I've taken both the high road and the low ride during my life time. Do you want to know when I've learned the most? Right now. More than any time in my life, now is the time when I'm learning the most. Why? Because I've been around the block, learned my lessons and haven't repeated the same mistakes twice. I never look back either. I try not to dwell on the obsticles ahead. I conquer them all one by one. But most importantly, it's the friends that I have now in my life who have made me into the man that I am today. I'm learning about the significance of these people and the important role each one has played in my life. That says everything!

Where would I be without them? It's the friends (some old and some new) who have continued to support me throughout the years. Without a shadow of a doubt, there are a handful of people in my life (and these friends include family members) who would truly take a bullet for me if they had to. And I would do the same for them.

So what have I been doing with myself up until now? It would take years for me to write down everything so maybe the photos I've posted might tell the story. I think you'll be able to get a good idea of who I am and where I've been. But where am I headed? The Academy of Art University in San Francisco, California. That's where I'm headed. Yes, at thirtynine (and a half) I start film school on February 2nd 2010. Even though I've already written, produced and directed my first feature film which is in its final stages of production, I wanted to continue my journey with the knowledge that will ultimately carry me to the next level towards my advancement. I'll be developing a keen eye for cinematography, that's for sure.

I'll be too busy to blog every night but I will keep you posted on weekly developments throughout my college experience. Considering I haven't stepped foot inside a classroom since my graduation from high school over twenty years ago, this should be very interesting. I want to thank you for stopping by and checking out my blog spot. I really could go on...and on...but you'll get to know me better as I keep posting. So let me leave you with this last bit of information about myself: The biggest lessons that I have ever learned to date is that you are never too old to try something new. You're never too old to get a continued education. You're never too old to merely hope for something to happen that you've always wanted for yourself. And last but certainly not least, you're never too old to fulfill a dream...no matter what anybody says, no matter what their opinions are. And that's an ERICKISM!