Your father built the trailer house And took you to live in it. Your heart stayed trapped beneath the caved in roof. Peeling paint and rotten wood, splintered around window frames glass missing or fragmented, sharp edges cut misplaced fingers and pieces crunch under boots that find their way through debris and juniper thickets. The…… Continue reading Peeling Paint
I’ve moved to a new place. I’ve written some, in the past three weeks that I’ve been here, but mostly in my journal, and only a couple poems. One, I don’t know if I’ll ever post it publicly, and then this one, I wasn’t sure if I would. I’m dealing with a resurgence of my…… Continue reading Alone- Why?
A deer appeared suddenly in front of my car going fifty on a mountain highway. Near enough I could see her eye solid black, her body in profile as she froze between the white and yellow lines. I was sure that was it that I would hit her. Even as I hit my breaks I…… Continue reading Split Second
I defended my dissertation on March 22, and passed with revisions. I interviewed for a job at a junior college on April 11, and was offered the job on April 14. I accepted the job on April 18. I submitted my revisions for my dissertation on April 27. I graduated on May 12 with my…… Continue reading Coming back to the world
I went to Rhetoric Society of America’s Institute in May. It was my first time attending, and it was a an intensive and challenging learning experience. I’m still processing what I learned. I’m hoping to have some posts about it soon. For now, I’ve let my new doctor brain rest for a few days, because…… Continue reading RSA Institute 2017
I’m a doctor, now, you know. I haven’t yet grown weary of saying those words. I grin and giggle when the syllables slip from tongue to my ears. “Hi, Dr. Alger,” a friend will say and I duck my head and blush as if I’m thirteen and the boy I liked said hi to me.…… Continue reading I’m a doctor, now
wild tongues cannot be tamed, they can only be cut out. – Gloria Anzaldúa Grad school meant learning the art of biting my tongue shaping my mouth correctly so only the right words exited lips. Grad school meant descending into shame when the right books hadn’t been read and apologizing for my unsophisticated taste. Grad…… Continue reading Grad School