I’m about to watch my new friend Miss Mary Faber on the Grammies, performing with Green Day / American Idiot! WHAT?! Go Miss Faber! Go,and things!

 I have my own private amazing step team to do my evil theatrical greek chorus bidding! They are real good at stomping, clapping, saying funny things, and making me feel smart.

Holy cow. This company in Michigan has applied for a patent to protect their new invention, the SarcMark, which allows users to properly note their sarcastic tone in emails, texts, IM’s etc. What is weirder – that they expect people to PAY to use this thing – or how badly we need it??

I apparently really like to get myself in these really awful playwritingy situations when I’m writing about something that’s super tricky to dramatize. In fact, one of my first plays was called ‘Happen’ and was about, well, how oftentimes in life it seems like nothing is Happening (though tiny things constantly are.) I didn’t really start even CONSIDERING Drama, like actual drama, people fighting for survival, trying to get what they want, overcoming things in their way, etc – until I studied with Michael Weller in grad school. (Thanks, sir.) And I think over the last few years, since I started to learn this new skill (actually being a Dramatist) I’ve really struggled with marrying this skill with my impulses as a writer. People, it is hard. Like right now, I am attempting to dramatize Fear. Um. Hard. The question, Bekah, is not, oh, how many interesting situations can we stick this person in, so that we can watch them cower in fear and lament about it; the question is – what do we DO when we are afraid? What do we doooooooo????

Dear My co-workers, riding the back of Khalid’s sketchy rape-van, which oftentimes contains random refrigerators or washing machines,

I love you. Thanks for letting me not be there for a few days.

Also, should Aaron be a man model? Aaron should be a man model.

Me, wearing nearly ALL of my heirlooms from my grandma.

 For the first time in a long time, I didn’t blog yesterday, and I thought I’d go ahead and be super meta and blog about not blogging. I’m sure only a select few actually noticed, but it got me thinking: in the future (THE FUTURE!!!!) or kind of NOW even: will the things you do online be the proof of your daily existence? Okay, it’s kind of already like that, but even more? Like: if I didn’t blog one day, would I literally be pressumed dead? This time, I was just extreme rehearsaling.

This week, I get to take some time off work to workshop the play I’ve written for Naked Angels! I feel very lucky. And also scared. And also excited. And weirdly hungry.

My second favorite place to write, second to my own room, is definitely Huckleberry bar. It’s right by apartment – dim light and great music, and I can rail on a glass of Chianti and eat boiled peanuts in peace, and they don’t look at me weirdly when, lost in thought, I chew on large chunks of my hair.