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 »

But have you tried

November 14th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

The other day at my acupuncturist, and other words that LA people start sentences with, my gal Dr. Hong removed the needles from my face, and suddenly, without warning or explanation, started to light me on fire. Turns out it’s called Moxa, it’s an ancient Chinese practice whose ‘intention is to warm and invigorate the flow of Qi in the body and dispel certain pathogenic influences.‘ Tiny pods of mugwort are burnt around the body to increase circulation and blood flow and something with Qi. In simpler terms, she lit me with 100 tiny fires, some on my toes, some on my stomach, and it was lovely, and for the rest of the day, Morrison wouldn’t come near me because he said I smelled like Smoked Salmon. I don’t know what it did to my Qi, or if I even have Qi, because somedays, I feel like I left my Qi somewhere, took it off, put it in the wash, forgot to dry it, and now it’s molding there in the machine. But maybe, actually, my Qi is now pulsing, flowing, creating life, or at least okayness, which somedays, is Life.

Posted in a lot, factual smarts, ha, hmmmmm, how interesting, i am a grown up, the making of babies, worrying, 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 »

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 »

Actual Coping Mechanism

August 9th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Amnesty international has issued a travel warning for those traveling to your country of residence / Kids are sobbing for their parents / your fertility shotz are making you want to rage and scream, or maybe it’s just the World? /  You’re behind on Everything / Well, most things / Your donations feel empty / where are they actually going? / is there enough money? Is there TOO much money? / Why does your Pastor drive a car that’s falling apart and yours gleams with excess? / QUICK BUY AN EARRING ORGANIZER AND SPEND A VERY VERY LONG TIME ARRANGING YOUR EARRINGS ONTO IT / GIVE YOURSELF A FALSE SENSATION OF STRUCTURE

AHHHHH THAT’S BETTER WAIT NO IT’S NOT

 

Posted in a lot, ha, the whole world, the worst, things that I Have, whining, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

Suffering Noisily

July 10th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Yesterday, I had another surgery that’s hopefully getting us one step closer to having a tiny person running around our house demanding to know where Poop comes from. It was the longest I’d ever been under anesthesia, and surely the gnarliest procedure I’ve had, and there was pain, AND I NEEDED EVERYONE AROUND ME TO KNOW IT. I’m not a person who suffers pain silently.  If I’m in pain, I feel like, what’s the point of the my pain if everyone within a 5 mile radius or at the very least my 2,000 instagram followers doesn’t know that it’s happening? It’s definitely weakness of character, or what Morrison calls ‘fortitude,’ ie, if my life were a game of Dungeons and Dragons I would be dead from a skinned knee before my adventure boat even left the castle (?). It’s also a little bit of narcissism, but like, a regular human amount. But maybe also it’s wanting to Share. Whenever I’m feeling anything intense, I don’t go In, I go Out. I don’t want just sympathy, I want Connection. All of this to say, when I reach the end of this road paved with white hospital bracelets, and a baby is exiting my body, please know that I will be Sharing my pain with anyone who can hear me. THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL KNOW.

Posted in babies, the future, the making of babies, what I'm wearing, whining, women, worrying, YAY | No Comments »

I talk, he listens, I don’t

June 30th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I think I don’t even listen to myself when I talk. I’m just sort of whirring around the house, doing 900 things, thinking some things, saying some of them out loud, and Morrison takes the most ridiculous and most important things and writes them down in the notes section of his phone, WHICH IS WHY I got this amazing flowing robe shirt thing for my birthday:

because at some point in the last year while stomping through the house declaring and straightening things, I said I NEED A FLOWING ROBE SHIRT  probably followed by DID WE CALL THE PERSON ABOUT THE THING and DID YOU READ ABOUT THE OTHER THING and HAVE WE DECIDED WHEN WE WERE DOING THAT? Please note his note-taking diligence is ALSO why we forever know that one point I actually said to him, ‘Let’s not mince hairs.’

Posted in a lot, i am lucky, MAWWAGE., what I'm wearing, women, words, working, worrying | No Comments »

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