About

Life is about growth. Growth craves change. Change entreats adaptation, born of observation, experimentation, experience.  Through rooting and chewing and clinging and crawling and sharing we flourish.

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I’m a thirty-something skirt who writes what I see, what tickles and tears at and touches me.  Beyond that, I’m a physician and a patient, a scientist and a writer, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a wife and lover of things simple and complex, finished and raw, scarce beginning and gray … just doing my best in Boston.

15 comments

  1. JohnAmes

    Well said. Keep it up!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I just discovered your blog because you liked mine. You are a gifted writer~I will look forward to reading your thoughts past and future!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oooo, excited to read more! Thank you for visiting my site and leaving your very encouraging comment. Looking forward to more sharing!! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Glad to be journeying along with you. Hope to see you often.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Someone sent me a gem of an article today. Thought you might appreciate this excerpt. Enjoy!

    How to Write Like a Scientist
    by Adam Ruben
    I didn’t know whether to take my Ph.D. adviser’s remark as a compliment. “You don’t write like a scientist,” he said, handing me back the progress report for a grant that I had written for him. In my dream world, tears would have come to his eyes, and he would have squealed, “You write like a poet!”
    In reality, though, he just frowned. He had meant it as a criticism. I don’t write like a scientist, and apparently that’s bad.
    I asked for an example, and he pointed to a sentence on the first page. “See that word?” he said. “Right there. That is not science.”
    The word was “lone,” as in “PvPlm is the lone plasmepsin in the food vacuole of Plasmodium vivax.” It was a filthy word. A non-scientific word. A flowery word, a lyrical word, a word worthy of — ugh — an MFA student.
    I hadn’t meant the word to be poetic. I had just used the word “only” five or six times, and I didn’t want to use it again. But in his mind, “lone” must have conjured images of PvPlm perched on a cliff’s edge, staring into the empty chasm, weeping gently for its aspartic protease companions. Oh, the good times they shared. Afternoons spent cleaving scissile bonds. Lazy mornings decomposing foreign proteins into their constituent amino acids at a nice, acidic pH. Alas, lone plasmepsin, those days are gone . . .

    Liked by 2 people

  6. stepbystep

    Thanks for your blog!
    Will be following you 🙂
    Looking for people to follow my journey too… if you have a minute, feel free to stop by ❤
    Take care,

    Like

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