Random Erik

I’ve been working in the kitchen as Maggie away. I hauled the Cintiq tablet monitor from the office and hooked it to my laptop on the breakfast bar. Why? Because the office doesn’t get direct sunlight, and until we sort out the lighting my mood is improved by not spending all of my time in there. I draw on the Cintiq, and the Web comic I’m developing is going to change the world forever. So I’m drawing for many hours a day and appreciate the natural lighting. However, I digress. I’m in the kitchen, with our little TV on, watching The Simpsons.

Or, I was watching them before I got engrossed in something. When I looked up, “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader” had come on. I’ve carefully avoided this show. I can’t stand Jeff Foxworthy’s “aw shucks I’m a good-old boy redneck” routine. The title is downright insulting. I teach kids, some that age. I love them. They’re bright, inspired kids. But… I am smarter than them, at least in most ways. I don’t think that is either insulting to them or bragging on my part. I’d be in real trouble if I were teaching rooms full of smarter people. Read more »

This is going to be a difficult piece to write. I’m taking a risk here, opening up in a blog with an admission that may even come as news to my wife and friends. Because I may not be who some people think I am.

It’s an old story. Starting about age 12, everything in my life went a bit crazy. I began experiencing odd feelings when I was around my classmates, or hanging out with my friends at the pool. Watching the way they moved, the way they looked with water glistening on their skin, listening to their conversations and feeling a terrible sense of yearning and loneliness. I can admit it now. I was deeply attracted to members of… the opposite sex. Girls. I loved girls (still do, but from the standpoint of a happily married man with no designs on anyone else honestly Maggie how could you even think such a thing). I thought about them all of the time. ALL of the time. At a time when most guys were worried that they just might grow up to like other guys “in that way,” my focus stayed entirely on girls. Read more »

Maggie and I got up early on Sunday to run the Schlotzky’s Annual Bun Run, one of Austin’s best 5K races. Ten years ago that sentence wouldn’t have happened. Get up early on a Sunday? Uh uh. Run a 5K? Who’d want to do that?

But now I love running. It allows me to binge on chocolate and still wear trousers without elastic waistbands. I listen to audiobooks on my jaunts around the Town Lake Hiker/Biker trail (a fact my friend Mary finds hilarious). It re-energizes me for the rest of the day. And I feel virtuous and smug. Everyone’s a winner. Read more »

Randomness is in my nature. My brain is a non-stop chatter of ideas, images, conflicting impulses and a general stream of trivia. What sounds like a non sequitur emerging from my mouth is usually the result of someone saying something and my following the thought it evokes down paths, side streets, alleyways and through uncharted wilderness. If you’re talking about dinner and I mention a fascinating fact about Cary Grant, then there is definitely a connection somewhere. Maggie finds it endearing and sometimes stops speaking to me in admiration.

Sometimes it’s hours before she speaks to me again.

Anyway, let me share some random thoughts I’ve had over the past day or two: Read more »

(Wow, things can change fast. I’m leaving this one up, but for now, Vancouver is looking to be unworkable. At least for 2007. Family stuff comes up and you make adjustments. I’ll write more on the subject when I know more.)

Principal author of the Declaration of Independence. Founding Father. Third President. Inventor. The guy responsible for the Louisiana Purchase. The guy responsible for my final decision.

Well, folks, it looks as if I’m going to be spending a year in Vancouver, studying animation at VanArts. Barring logistical problems, next June 15th, I’ll start a year of intense study, frustration, excitement and achievement. I’ve wanted to do the full animation course since I attended VanArts in 2001 for a Summer Intensive. This year, I got accepted to the Vancouver Film School’s Classical Animation program, and flew up to Vancouver to meet with the school and get a feel for the program. While there, I also visited with VanArts. For several reasons, the latter school became my choice.

Vancouver Film School was very nice, but to me it seemed too large. Several groups are in various stages of the program at one time, and the sense of community wasn’t strong. One group had decided to curtain off their individual workstations, not an promising sign. VFS also claims ownership of student work, which would mean any characters I created for my projects wouldn’t be mine. That, I think, would really limit my creativity, as I wouldn’t want to give away any ideas I really liked.

VanArts looked like a stronger community. The school was founded specifically for classical animation, though they’ve branched out into 3D and visual effects. They don’t own your projects. Along with some philosophical differences, I felt happier about choosing them.

So I’ve been questioning any industry people I know about the wisdom of doing a year (many thanks to folks such as Aaron Romo of Squirrelworks, Tom Bancroft and Jessica Abel for taking time to really help me). I’ve been moaning and whining to my illustration group about how hard the decision is. I’ve been driving Maggie nuts, though Maggie is cool with the idea as she likes Vancouver and it has a strong stand-up comedy scene.

Back to Thomas Jeffereson. My illustration critique group, their partners and some related friends came over on Thursday to watch Christmas specials and eat junk and drink wine. We did much more of the eating and drinking. Many of the “partners and related friends” contingent kept saying “I hear you’re moving to Vancouver for a year.” News to me, as I was still very much on the fence. But after a while, as the wine took over, the whole party decided that the decision needed to be finalized. Then and there.

So, we decided on a coin flip, best two out of three. Heads I go, tails I stay. With a suave and confident motion, I drew a nickel from my pocket and flipped it. It went wild and landed on the floor. Hello, Thomas Jefferson: his face stared up at me. The second toss managed to bounce off of my skull before rolling to a halt on the floor. (Maggie chose to declare me the least cool person she knew, though I’ve decided not to call the divorce lawyers about that one). Second toss, and the Jefferson Memorial pointed upwards. A third coin toss, preferably one that wouldn’t dent my forehead, was called for.

Oh, the suspense. I flipped the coin and deftly missed the third catch in a row. When it came to a halt, I put my foot on the nickel. What was it? I knew the decision then: I hoped it was heads. The suspense in the crowd grew to a frenzy of mild curiousity. I lifted my stylish leather Converse One-Star.

Hello Thomas Jefferson.

So, thanks Tom. For one of America’s greatest documents and for overseeing the doubling of United States territory. For being a good President (oh, how we could use him now). And, most importantly, for helping me make an absolutely huge, potentially life-changing decision. What a guy!

By the way, the picture is indeed the actual nickel, which will someday feature prominently in a museum somewhere. Or end up in a parking meter, if I’m not careful. I’ll take donations to help preserve our national heritage.