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i am once again overcome with the desire to express my thoughts, and whenever i think of writing in my journal it makes me think that the life i lead now shouldn’t be mingling next to the pages that hold documentation of a life completely different; full of alcohol abuse, hysterical antics, and rap lyrics. 

so here i lay, in the middle of a very engaging novel by Haruki Murakami, 1Q84. I highly recommend it to readers that enjoy lengthy fiction. i am just entering a chapter where one of the main characters, Aomame is about to kill someone. i am glad my little fetus of a girl is oblivious to the nature of my book, let alone all the evils of the world at the moment. it is a feeling that is nearly inexplicable when she flutters around in my stomach; it is so comforting and amazing knowing she grows stronger and bigger every day. i just can’t wait to hold her, and smell her, and buy her clothes, and hug her when she cries, and do yoga with her. i am adjusting fairly well to pregnancy but i am still quite terrified to give birth. i have become addicted to the blender and it’s wondrous creations. i stay up too late and currently a tiny little moth has found his way into my room.. he better stay away from me. i find it hard to think about anything right now besides yearning for a house to fall into our laps, my boyfriend and i have been experiencing the difficulty of finding a place to live. also baby meadow is quite distracting with her nighttime dancing going on <3