Flat dusty horizons and broad treeless plains
Small town prince in a suburban life
Weekends in farm country kissing on cousins
Playing in mud with just us boys
Dirt under my nails and dreams in my head.
High school with cool kids who loved to be learned
We were the “A Team” on the broad coastal plain.
Beaches and Boone’s Farm and Bluebonnet Balls
dances on Thursday or else nothing to do
Girlfriends and third base and playing at straight.
Austin discovery of me and new family
Boyfriends and sisters in a historied estate
Suppressed desires and main stage attractions.
Drama and loving, cotillions and all.
Later the Apple, then a City of Angels
But Texas shaped and made me and drew me back again.
Wow it’s been a long time since I’ve visited this website.
CUT TO: Three years later. Randall has completed his MFA at Texas Tech University with an emphasis in Performance & Pedagogy. He has become a Fellow of the National Critics Institute at The O’Neill Theatre Center. He has performed in numerous productions, traveled twice to The Provincetown Tennessee Williams Theatre Festival (where he presented his in-process original adaptation of the Williams story Mother Yaws as the first-ever scholarly presentation at the Tennessee Williams Institute).
And now I’ve been granted an AT&T Chancellor’s Fellowship to continue my studies at TTU in the doctoral program, with an emphasis in Playwriting and Theory/History/Criticism. I start in August.
The decision to recalibrate my life after the enormous changes thrown my way in 2010 was a wise one. I’m extremely grateful to my family and friends for their enduring support and assistance, and to the faculty of The School of Theatre at Texas Tech University for their welcoming embrace and tireless support. Onward and upward! (and perhaps now I can be a bit more consistent in posting here.)
This weekend I went to my local market and bought fresh pineapple for 2 for $1.99, a pint of fresh blueberries for .99, one granny smith apple for .15, tangerines for .69/lb. Came home, cut up the pineapple, washed and cleaned the blueberries, added chunks of the granny smith, squeezed two tangerines into the mix, added a tablespoon of honey and 1/2 teaspoon of lavender syrup. Chilled.
I learned a house is not a home and a job is just a job.
I learned I’m not a failure for trying, even if I tried and failed. That is hard to understand when applied to juggling, but it made a lot of sense once my heart had been broken.
This year I won’t try so hard.
After a year of pain and heartache and beds of nails that I built for myself, I learned to protect myself from my own worse impulses. And the people who inspire me to exercise those impulses.
Who says there’s anything wrong with having a really, really, really really really really really really really horrible year and taking until its almost ended to get over it?