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

Dear Diary, do Breakups ever get easier?

March 13th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Diary: NO. THEY NEVER EVER GET EASIER. EVER. YOU WILL BE MISERABLE FOREVER. Also, stop talking to a book.

Posted in love, whining, women | No Comments »

This Poor Woman

March 12th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

She has to put up with ALL of my angst. Here she is, after driving me 9 hours up from NC one Christmas break when a snow storm cancelled all  flights. Did she have to do this? No. She’s the best. But there’s something about talking to / dealing with your Mom that instantly turns you into an angry toddler, only because you know she’s the only one who’s required to take it. And so, this morning, after  waking up late and inside of a weird dream in which I THINK I was doing crystal meth with my boss at her kid’s birthday party, while also floating around an indoor lazy River?, and then hitting bad traffic,  I decided that the best solution was to shout at my Mom because clearly, this was all her fault. It’s always easier to blame your Mother than the universe. Mom, how dare you send me weird dreams and create car accidents. How you did this, I’m just not sure, but also, I’m sorry, and you’re the best.

Posted in i am a grown up, whining, women | No Comments »

Seasons

March 11th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

La KIND OF has them, and it’s starting to feel ish like Spring, and I don’t even mind it, not even a little bit, not at all.

Posted in LA angst, life | No Comments »

Um, GORGEOUS.

March 10th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Oh nothing, just my gorgeous sister Carrie and her gorgeous fiance Simon. Okay fine, so maybe I’ll go to London and celebrate their shared gorgeousness. SO HAPPY FOR THEM I COULD PUKE SPRINKLES!

Posted in love, what my friends are doing | No Comments »

Enter the Disgruntled Sleep Fairy

March 10th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

In honor of the WORST DAY OF THE YEAR, I’d like to share this monologue with you, from my play The Bedmaker’s Revenge, which I wrote for a 24 hour play festival years ago that happened like DURING Daylights savings time, in which a Disgruntled Sleepfairy Speaks. Clearly someone (me) was very tired when she/I wrte it.

SLEEP FAIRY

How are you? Tired? Oh – You’ll have to excuse me, I’m already in my pajamas. So  Are you tired? I’d like a count, please, how many of you are tired?

Please don’t really raise your hand.  You’ll make the person next to you feel very uncomfortable, and that person is probably tired. There was something important I – I was –

( She thinks and dreams.)

I’m sorry, I  had something important to say, but I was thinking of sleep. Ah. So how tired are you, if you could measure it? How many cups of tired?You’ve had your Coffee, I bet, this morning. And then more coffee, coffee part two, then wine with dinner – your bed is looking pretty good right now, isn’t it? Well – your bed or the bed of your lover – the person you have chosen with which to bed. By the time you get out of here, the 43 minute commute – by the time you’ve twice fed the whiney cat and taken out all recyclings – the getting of mail and the clipping of fingernails – you’ll get five and half hours of sleep.

Not enough. Didn’t your mother ever teach you?

You have to be at work by nine, which means you’re up by seven, to allow for the hair-scrubbing and face scrubbing to give the ILLUSION of adequate sleep. Then there’s the getting of the egg sandwich after the fiasco in which your metrocard expires and there you find yourself, tired, tired, cussing in front of small children.And There’s somewhere to be tomorrow night, too. Obligatory. You won’t get a real night’s sleep until Friday, and then if you sleep in Saturday, you’ll have wasted half a free day, and I can tell you’re not the type to waste anything.

There was something important to say, somewhere – there something – I love beds, don’t you? I was saying something. Oh.

(She clears her throat, official, then Loud: )

ONE NIGHT EVERY YEAR, YOU ARE VIOLENTLY AND MALICIOUSLY AND VICIOUSLY ROBBED OF ONE HOUR OF SLEEP. I’m sorry. It just really pisses me off. It’s not my doing, I promise. It’s got something very complicated to do with gravity or the growing of grass. Cruel and unusual. Maybe it’s handed back to us months later, but by then, the tired has already happened, been dragged out over hundreds of days. And for the following days, we find ourselves discombobulated. Picking fights, Swinging our large bags into innocent strangers. And by we – I mean you.

I think was saying something.

If you oversleep you lie like a dog and pretend you didn’t. Your forgot your keys or she forgot your keys or something exploded or someone died. When you wake up, you are a like a baby, clenching your fists and kicking your feet. I hear that sometimes, you’re so tired, it’s like you’re drunk. You forget what it’s like to not be tired and this becomes a constant feeling of average despair, which feels like life.

Posted in the writing of drama plays, whining | No Comments »

A watched pot never produces Good Times; Pants that Fit

March 9th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’d just like to take a moment to acknowledge this universal phenomenon that extends beyond just impatiently glaring at pots on stoves. It kind of applies to everything. Whenever you say to yourself, I WILL GO TO THE MALL AND I WILL FIND A PAIR OF PANTS, or I WILL GO OUT TONIGHT HAVE A TRANSFORMATIVE EXPERIENCE, it never happens. Things only happen when you least expect them, organically but randomly. Try it. Tell yourself you’ll find pants and you’ll waste hours sifting through tshirts with mustaches on them, depressed. Declare that you will have a great night, and you’ll spend your evening with corked wine, talking to no one. I think it’s just a matter of expectations, and managing them, or rather, having none?  Lastly I’d like to acknowledge that it takes me about five minutes, and a deep drop-in to my Wordly Wise spelling books of elementary school, to spell Phenonmenon. Phenonemon. Phemonenon.

Phenomenon.

Posted in a lot, the whole world, whining | No Comments »

SURPRRRISEEEEE

March 9th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Posted in awesome, food | No Comments »

This Happened.

March 8th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Here’s a cast picture from one of my first plays in college, Happen, in which, well, nothing Happens. See what I did there? I have so many questions I don’t even know where to start, so I’ll just pick at random, WHY IS THERE A CUPID, and  a larger question, which is just WHY.

Posted in awesome, the writing of drama plays | No Comments »

When I find a new song that I Love

March 7th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

Posted in awesome, music | No Comments »

An outfit.

March 6th, 2013 by Bekah Brunstetter

In attempts to cheer myself up, I’m going to start wearing Outfits. Outfits have long since disappeared since elementary school, when if I did NOT HAVE the floral scrunchie that matched my shirt that matched my socks that matched the entire contents of Limited Too, I would just die. I’m bringing them back. Outfits require waking up 25 as opposed to 20 minutes before I leave for work, and actually pausing and thinking about what I’m putting on my person, and oftentimes involve things like ‘skirts.’ Let’s see how long this lasts.

Posted in awesome, what I'm wearing, whining | No Comments »

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