kerouac says

i made the monkey some chocolate sandwich cookies. they're amazing, but i've now licked enough of them off my fingers (and shoved enough of the finished ones in my mouth) that i'm a little sick of them. ah, cookies. a harsh mistress.

i keep forgetting how pregnant i am. what week is it? i dunno, sometime in the fifth month? the other day i was suddenly sad that the realities of the first trimester were fading. the weird waking up, the amazing bloodhound nose (which was a terrible match with the distressing pregnancy gas), the flat tummy that seemed like it would never look any different. it looks different now. finally, maybe more like a fetus than an extra burrito. one of my students asked on friday. and then i ran into three of them, girls, in westwood, getting frozen yogurt, and they almost cooed at me. i guess it's out.

i'm feeling comfortable being pregnant. i mean, i think. i like being the pregnant one when we're out somewhere. i'm not uncomfortable. i'm not scared. uncomfortable about money, maybe, but that's been about three years going, so.

what i *am* scared about is the dissertation. i quake. i race. i shy away from checking my email for fear of advisor messages. did i write here about maybe the dissertation anxiety seeming like a portmanteau for impending parenthood, which must certainly be scarier?

trying not to be so scared of anything. i got a lot going for me, here. trying to keep my chin up.