bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

Fresh Out

November 30th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

This Thanksgiving / Holiday season, I’ve noted a fun new festive quality in myself: COMPLETE AND UTTER VOID OF PATIENCE TO VIOLENT AND SOBBING DEGREES. While we were at Leatherwood, a mixup with our bank led to our mortgage payment not going through, and I had to wait, you know, 24 hours to be able to call them and sort it out, and so naturally, I lost my mind and I’m pretty sure I threw my phone on the floor. Last night, flying back to LA, my stupid entertainment screen did not work, nor did the internet, and so I slammed up my tray table and made sure Morrison and the entire airplane knew that my screen was not working, and it just wasn’t fair, because everyone else’s screens were working, and so MY screen should be working, WHY does everyone else get to watch a Seth Rogan movie while I have to sit in screaming airplane silence? (I should note that Morrison traded seats with me, because he is the best, and completely fine with the fact that he married a tall Baby. I then, you know. Watched a movie, as was my HUMAN RIGHT.) Obviously these big baby tantrums have nothing to do with money, or mortgage, or transfers, or movies, or air, and completely everything to do with my overall frustration with inability to control our baby quest, despite all of my attempts to do so. Here’s the hard truth I’ve learned, that I am still learning: you can have all of the money and doctors and access in the world, and it still doesn’t mean you will have a baby. Surely, it helps, it gets you closer, and I am so grateful everyday for our ability to throw money at this. But still: there is no guarantee, ever. And oftentimes, there is nothing to do but Wait, to sit with yourself, accept where you are, stew in Trust and Hope and Faith and Patience other words that go on Pillows. My Christmas promise (is this a thing?) to myself is to try, really really try, to accept and enjoy where we are, because objectively, OBJECTIVELY, it’s really not so bad, like perhaps even Great.

Posted in love, MAWWAGE., narcissism, the future, the making of babies, the worst, whining, words, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

Rage

November 20th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I feel like Rage doesn’t suit me. It’s not my natural or go-to state. The closest thing I think I’ve felt in the past is frustration, which is a gateway drug to Rage, the Diet Coke of Rage, Rage’s short friend from college who she sees Sometimes, and Wow, I could make those metaphors all day. But lately I feel so much of it, and it’s like my body and brain and heart don’t know how to process it because it’s so New. It gets Big and Hot and Mean but when it comes out, it’s a cute sputter, it’s a Bee trapped in a cupcake case, buzzing around pointlessly, stinging the glass.

Posted in a lot, silly, the making of babies, trying too hard, whining, worrying | No Comments »

Feelings Recipes

November 16th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

One of my new favorite things to do is to write Feelings Recipes, by which I mean, listing out not only ingredients but also the Feelings I put into whatever I cooked. And so I present to you this vegan pasta:

With turmeric chickpea noodles, Avoidance, roasted carrots and cauliflower, DESPAIR, onion and garlic, DREAD, roasted cherry tomatoes, kale, FRESH HOPE GRATED ALL OVER THE TOP OF IT (TASTES LIKE CHEESE)

Posted in food, generally, ha, whining, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

WE’RE FINE, HOW ARE YOU?

October 29th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’ve finally located the most perfect anecdote to share whenever I’m asked, How are you, How are things? I will now reply:

Well yesterday, I came home from the doctor frustrated because it takes a long time because it always takes a long time, and it eats into my time to Work, and I’d spent the drive home trying to think through a note on my Santa Claus play, and my brain was too full of big worries to think it through it clearly, and so Morrison found me sobbing in a doorway, crying I DON’T KNOW WHAT SANTA WANTS!!!! SO I’M BASICALLY FINE, HOW ARE YOU?

Posted in holidays, the making of babies, the writing of drama plays, whining, YAY | No Comments »

AM I CALM YET?

October 21st, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter
  • Does 10 minute long guided meditation; finds Calm
  • Is very proud of oneself
  • immediately starts to spiral with worry
  • then starts to spiral more with worry that the guided meditation didn’t ‘work’
  • IS 100% NO LONGER CALM
  • GOOGLES SAFE LEGAL LOBOTOMY

Posted in a lot, whining, YAY | No Comments »

Veinity

October 17th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Me / Nurse: Hey veins! How you livin’?

Veins: SMALL

Me / Nurse: Cool, that’s cool, we’re just gonna need some blood real quick!

Veins: NO

Me / Nurse: But blood contains vital information and this is literally our only way to get it?

Veins: DON’T CARE

Me / Nurse: Wait, where’re you going?

Veins: BYE

Posted in a lot, whining, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

The Easiest Part

October 9th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

My friend Maggie and her boyfriend Grimur had a little Girl about 6 months ago, as weird and beautiful as her parents. I kept asking Maggie what her daughter’s name was, and she kept saying, we don’t know. And also: we’ll decide when the government needs us to! Granted, they are Icelandic, so basically they ONLY DO THINGS IF INSTRUCTED TO BY HIDDEN PEOPLE, or if compelled to do so by their art guts. They were so busy raising and marveling at her, that her name didn’t really seem to matter. Their little girl went nameless for I think something like 3 months before they settled on Myrra, something that both Americans and Icelanders could easily pronounce. I was thinking about Myrra and Maggie the other day as Morrison and I had our 8 millionth ‘what will we name our children‘ conversation. For us, that has been the easiest part, probably because we’ve had much time to discuss. It started the year before we got married as we floated in a desert hot Spring, poking around the names of our siblings and grandparents and musicians we liked. For going on four years now, we’ve known ****** and ****** and ******. Their names are so clear to us, and we repeat them sometimes, remind ourselves of them, like saying ***** and ***** and ****** will make them exist, before they do. Just as I’m trying to patiently allow myself to think about worst case scenarios, I’m trying to also think about the good ones. Like when ***** or ****** or ****** is grown, they might ask us someday, why did you name me *****? And we will smile and say, because we knew it was your name, long before we knew You.

Posted in i am a grown up, i am lucky, i have peace, kids, silly, the future, the making of babies, whining, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

THIS CAT, THO

August 22nd, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

You’re not a Cat person, you say. You’re not an Animal Person even, you say. BUT THEN I ASK YOU: ARE YOU IN FACT A PERSON AT ALL? AND I ALSO ASK YOU: HAVE YOU NEVER HAD YOUR SOUL EXAMINED BY A CREATURE WHO HEARD YOUR WORRY AND SAD FROM ACROSS THE HOUSE AND EMERGED SOFTLY AS IF UNBEKNOWNST TO YOU, YOUR HEART CALLED TO HIM AND HE LITERALLY PUTS HIS HANDPAWS ON YOU AS IF TO SAY, I AM HERE, AND NO I DO NOT CONTROL THE UNIVERSE BUT JUST KNOW THESE SIMPLE FACTS: I EXIST, AND YOU ARE FINE?

CLEARLY YOU HAVE NOT

Posted in animals, i am lucky, Uncategorized, whining, words, working | No Comments »

Bitch-slapped by Hope

August 20th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Why be a writer at all, or even have a blog at all, if I don’t keep trying to find a new way to articulate the same thing over and over, just keep finding and finding new ways to Say it? I have a new way to describe how I feel re: procreation attempts that keeps pinging around my brain, and so I’ll leave it here. I feel like I’m a Shutterstock image of a woman turning her face to the Sun, she’s grateful, she’s positive and she’s teeming with her own dreams, she’s very simply happy to be alive, maybe she’s pretending she’s a bug on a rock, maybe she’s reminding herself that she’s small, but either way, her eyes are closed and she’s just happy there, and the Sun moves just so that it warms her face like a cookie and just as her lips move into a calm and trusting smile A GIANT’S HAND MADE OF HER OWN CALCIFIED HOPE AND ALSO WHAT FEELS LIKE STEEL COMES OUT OF NOWHERE AND BITCH SLAPS HER ACROSS THE FACE, and she’s stunned, but then sinks to the grass in search of her teeth, and finds them scattered in five miles each direction.

SO JUST PLEASE STAY TUNED FOR MY NEXT PLAY, BITCH SLAPPED BY HOPE, BROADWAY 2023, STARRING SARAH JESSICA PARKER AS ME AND AN ACTUAL 20 FT TALL TRANSFORMER AS MY HOPE.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, the future, the making of babies, whining | No Comments »

Further and Further Away

August 14th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I don’t so much have Good dreams or Bad Dreams, I have Worry Dreams, with very simple plots that usually involve me trying to get somewhere important, pushing through sand and time to get there, but the destination keeps getting moved to somewhere far. I dream that I’m supposed to have another surgery but I’m tired of Waiting and I’m Hungry so I go to get a Sandwich but I get lost getting back and I can’t find my hospital bed because I swear I only went five minutes away, but it takes hours to get back to it. I’m realizing that all of these dreams are exactly how I feel about still trying to have a baby.  The end keeps getting moved, pushed farther. It’s always nine months away, plus Whatever Time.  I’ve been walking for hundreds of miles dragging my rolling suitcase full of stones but the Gate has changed, I swear it was There but then it’s Not. Meanwhile I can hear and see everyone, already there. They’re laughing with their toddlers, it’s a picnic, there’s face paint and wading pools and games and chicken nuggets, vats of Annie’s Mac n Cheese, they’re all waiting. Where’s Bekah? It’s so easy to get here. We’ve been here for years. Maybe she’s not coming. And I’m screaming at them, I’m coming, I’m trying, don’t leave, I’m almost there! But they can’t hear me, because as I’m screaming, they’ve moved to another planet, a million miles further away.

Posted in a lot, life, love, the future, the making of babies, what my friends are doing, whining, women, words, worrying | No Comments »

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