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Author: Ruthless Red Pen

Freelance Copywriter, Editor, and Creative Writer based in Dallas, Texas

January 1, 2019January 9, 2019 Ruthless Red Pen

Pit Bulls Scare Me

December 30, 2018 Ruthless Red Pen

Master Fibonacci

December 28, 2018 Ruthless Red Pen

Grammar Lessons

December 25, 2018 Ruthless Red Pen

Icicles

December 22, 2018 Ruthless Red Pen

SF Writers Conference

December 15, 2018December 15, 2018 Ruthless Red Pen

Cruel Stepmother

November 24, 2018November 24, 2018 Ruthless Red Pen

Therapy

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*** My mother was bipolar, narcissistic, and cold as a snake. Our father abandoned us and she moved far away from extended family so there was little support. I and my sister (and to some extent, my stepbrother and stepsister) suffered daily physical and emotional abuse. My siblings chose difficult and dangerous pathways much different from mine. My little sister Lynn tried to overcome the abuse but chose destructive habits, people, and paths. She took her life five years ago at age 44 after suffering all kinds of abuse from many people. I blame our mother. I will write a memoir; I’ve begun, in vignettes. I began writing them just to release some of the pain; in January I decided I also want to offer them in a book, to possibly help others. People who have endured childhood abuse might be interested in such books; the words of some strangers I have met or read recently seem to be evidence that some people would. I have been curious, though, and wondered, “Would people who have NOT suffered such abuse be interested in this kind of book?” Maybe they would not relate or even care to dive into that kind of world, where happiness is alien and fear is home. Of course, I wouldn't blame them. • • #Memoir #childhoodabuse #trauma #sister #suicide #recovery #survivor

*** Waves • • The timbre of your soft confession in the dark thumps hard—still— shaking invisible but thunderous waves over the surface of this heart that for you beats—still— and probably always will.

*** My mother’s daily severe physical and verbal abuse led to my sister Lynn’s suicide five years ago and the clinical depression both I and my brother Jimmy experienced (he died at just 49 last year). My point is this: The effects last longer than you might think possible. Finally, the author of this article ends with the advice to help someone suffering from this kind of abuse (e.g. offer positive words as often as you can, instead). This is crucial because I received some positive encouragement at various times throughout my childhood—from strangers, teachers, and other family—but Lynn and Jimmy did not, or very rarely. I believe the difference is a major factor in the difference between what became of my life and how Jimmy’s and Lynn’s ended. https://www.healthyfoodhouse.com/the-connection-between-verbal-abuse-and-anxiety-everyone-ignores/ #abuse #bullying #work #domesticviolence #home #depression #suicide #prevention #anxiety #mentalhealth

*** So many of these—like old friends—keep company in my mind, linger for a warm “Goodbye!” and one last look behind. To see all 34, go to this site: https://www.scribendi.com/advice/compelling_first_lines_of_famous_books.en.html Banner image by Peter Macdiarmid/Getty Images

*** Where we were just we is where you’ll always find me. • Words mine; photo credit: @larsvandegoor

*** Russet sparks from quivering lips, and tawny, teasing fingertips fly from ’neath ebony hair, and dark brown eyes: evergreen lies.

What can YOU do, say, or write that will make a difference in the lives of people who will be living eight hundred years from now? Certain medieval transcripts resonate eight hundreds after they were written. I learned of some written by a gentleman from Pisa, and I fell in love with him. Would you like to learn more about him, too? I would love to introduce you to Leonardo Pisano, aka Fibonacci. You can read about him in my book, "Master Fibonacci: The Man Who Changed Math," which is available on Amazon and also for free download on my publisher's website: Fibonacci.com #Fibonacci #FibonacciSequence #Math #History #Biography #writing #legacy #ruthlessredpen

*** Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair. Parsley, more fair than golden straw, through window yon to me dost draw my sighs! My Love, your tender tears and all these hours—now freed from fears— like tempests of a hundred years shall fade as shade in sun withdraws.••• ••• "Rapunzel" is a German fairy tale in the collection assembled by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (the Brothers Grimm), and first published in 1812 as part of “Hausmärchen” (“Children's and Household Tales”). The Grimm Brothers' story is an adaptation of the fairy tale “Rapunzel” by Friedrich Schulz, published in 1790. Schulz had adapted an even earlier story written by Italian Giambattista Basile, in which the lady fair was named Petrosinella (or Parsley). ••• Words mine; photo credit: @j.meade.images • #Rapunzel #Grimm #fairytales #German #Italian #Parsley

*** I am pleased to announce that my book is now available on Amazon; it is also available on my publisher's website, which is now open and in Beta. https://fibonacci.com/ • “Master Fibonacci: The Man Who Changed Math” is a history/biography of the man named Leonardo from Pisa, Italy, who wrote math books in the early thirteenth century which were very popular. He was beloved by his countrymen because he taught people how to use and calculate with the Arabic numerals, which was much easier to do than with the cumbersome Roman numerals. I fell in love with Leonardo (aka Fibonacci) because he was not only a genius, he was humble, too! I hope you will read my book and learn more about him; perhaps you, too, will discover a new appreciation for the beauty of math in our world! Since the site is in Beta, a lot of changes and improvements are coming. If you or anyone else visit the site and see any issues, please reach out and let me know. Thank you! :) #joy #publishing #writer #author #MathHistory #Fibonacci #FibonacciSequence

*** It is am•waze•ing to me how different parts of the country have routines that I’ve never heard of! I am here in San Francisco, enjoying the San Francisco Writers Conference (with an extended day of workshops tomorrow) and I am petsitting in Oakland (through TrustedHouseSitters); it saves me hundreds $$$ on hotel bills. Anyway, to get back and forth from Oakland to SF, Pedro showed me how to use the app Waze, which pairs riders with drivers. At first I asked incredulously, “People get in cars with strangers (meaning, they aren’t Lyft or Uber drivers so they haven’t had background checks)???” It has been enjoyable riding with these strangers who have been (for the most part) very friendly. If you have Waze in your city and you haven’t tried it, I highly recommend it! #Commute #work #SFWC19 #sanfrancisco #carpool

*** Terrified, he clasps the hand of Courage and steps out into the chasm, expecting to fall; but there is a bridge upon which his footfall rests—formerly camouflaged, unseen but solid as stone, nonetheless. Step out into the chasm.

*** As empty air moves stiffly from one bare frozen plain to another, so hope trudges lightly treaded pathways ’twixt slightly warmer breaths.

*** Ruthless Red Pen

*** All of those you “couldn’t live without” turn out to be you could.

*** Words mine; photo credit: @vzcomacro and @danieljnevares.photo

*** ❤️😍💛 Leonardo 💛😍❤️

The woman licked the tip of the brush then dipped it into the small ceramic container before applying it to the cream parchment. With precise, bold strokes she created the monogram and flourishes in the margins to match the robes and the color of her eyes. She took great care because the rare blue pigment, ultramarine, was as expensive as the gold leaf, for it was made from crushed lapis lazuli stones, and she did not know when the monastery would receive replenishment of her supply. A fascinating discovery by microbioarchaeologists in a skeleton in a rural, medieval German monastery reveals that at least one woman once participated in the highly-specialized occupation of manuscript illumination. https://www-m.cnn.com/2019/01/09/health/medieval-woman-ultramarine-teeth-study/

*** Glorious lithe limbs reach up not out yet I cannot help but think my eye was not the only one her Creator had in mind when she he designed; oh, no, ‘twas my heart he intended to capture and, indeed, did find enraptured, impaled upon her: Beauty refined.• • *for my friend, Onur @honour.speaks whose delightful images, lessons, and ponderings upon the beauty of and in Turkey have enthralled me and fueled my desire to see her.

*** Pit bulls scare me; it seems most of the news stories I read in which a dog has killed a human tell of pit bulls being the vicious attackers. So, imagine my surprise when I met the family for whom I agreed to petsit in Austin over the Christmas holiday; the owners had to hold their three dogs back as I entered their home. They were all three large dogs, solid muscle, and eager to lick me to death. A tiny sliver of fear darted into my heart when I saw that two of them were pit bulls. I had not paid attention to their breed when I agreed to petsit. I have grown fond of them these last nine days. All three dogs could literally kill me, they are so strong and heavy, but they are also very sweet and actually quite gentle. Still, their long, sharp claws hurt me when they jump up on me (the two pits jump far too much) and when they playfully nip at me I have to use a stern voice to get them to stop. Yesterday I was walking Zorra when we came upon a couple walking from the opposite direction; I stopped at the corner and shortened the leash to let them pass (in case they were afraid of large pit bulls) but they paused and pet and fawned over Zorra. Then they pointed in the direction I was headed and the lady with kind brown eyes said, “There is a dog loose up there; see?” But I could not see it. The gentle man then said, “It’s running around and ... well, maybe you should not go that way.” I thanked them and turned, changing direction, to lead Zorra up another block away from the loose dog. We walked a long block, turned left, and circled back around toward home. I wasn’t in a rush so I let Zorra smell everything she was interested in and I completely forgot all about the loose dog. When we were almost home, we came back to the street upon which we had been when we had met the friendly couple. As we approached the corner, a car was driving slowly and stopped. A man called loudly from the passenger side, “Ma’am? He’s already attacked another dog!” and pointed toward the dog on the other side of their car. It was standing between us and Zorra’s home. Fear froze in my veins as I saw that the loose dog was a large, rusty-colored pit bull and it had seen us...

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