Personal

The Notebook: A Life Lesson

Ronovan Life, Writing 101-Blogging University , , , , , ,

The Notebook: A Life Lesson

by: Ronovan

 

“Hey, Ron, check out that box over there and see what we can get rid of,” said Chet.

 

I pulled the box to me and began going through the sweaters, magazines and umbrellas. I wondered how people could lose so many things in a church and just not think of what happened to them.

 

The Bible was beautiful. I opened it and saw the name, Orthel Hopkins. I shook my head. His mother should have been looking for this already. Or maybe he had been hiding something else in his Bible cover so she didn’t know yet. I set it aside and would sneak it to him another time.

Read. The word jumped out at me. It was my hand writing. It looked like one of my notebooks. But why was it here?

“. . . had a great time and posted some fun vacation pictures for you. . .”

“Chet, I’ll be back later.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I only lived minutes away. The car didn’t even have time to cool inside before I was pulling into the driveway. Continue reading →

The Disguise of Contentment

Ronovan Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain, Life , , , , , , , , ,

Stephen Hawking

 “I can’t disguise myself with a wig and dark glasses – the wheelchair gives me away.”-Stephen Hawking

 

 The Disguise of Contentment

by: Ronovan

Do you have certain thoughts when you see an elderly person slowly getting out of the car in the handicap spot at a store? What do you do when you see an elderly person in a store having to use a walker to walk with? What about those with obvious disabilities?

 

If you were to think about it honestly, you probably don’t give it a second thought. That’s who is supposed to be using those parking spaces and walkers, right?

 

I recently changed my Profile Picture back to my real photo. I was hesitant to do so because I was worried it would take away from the impression one gets from my writing. I know how when I read someone’s work the image used does sometimes add or take away from what I am reading but eventually I no longer even see the person as I read more and more of their work.

RonovanWrites

Now, look at my picture. You see a man that’s 6’1”, fairly clean cut, broad shouldered, some say rugged looking. I think rugged means someone who has been out in the rugged weather to much and is worn out looking, but okay, I can agree with that. When I wish I can assume the role of a bulldozer in crowds, politely so and people tend to get out of my way. This has usually occurred in the past when someone has held onto my shoulder and others are holding onto them in order to follow me through the crowd. Teenagers love me for this.

The rugged guy is leaning on a rail over a beautiful river, and somewhat smiling at the camera or at least not frowning. In other words you see the picture of contentment.

 

Arthur Erickson

“Illusion is needed to disguise the emptiness within.”-Arthur Erickson

I’m the one that gets out of the car slowly from the handicap spot. I don’t use a walker in the grocery store, I lean on the cart instead. I’m the one that walks slowly forcing anyone with me to take their time. I’m the one that people have to get things from the bottom shelf for.

 

I’m the one that people look strangely at as he gets out of the car. I’m the one they look strangely at as he shuffles through the store. I’m the one that gets left behind as people walk on ahead. I’m the one that can’t get anyone to help get things from the bottom shelf.

 

I’m the one leaning on the rail for support. I’m the one hoping he doesn’t fall into the river as spasms of pain shoot through his body. I’m the one holding his dark glasses so he can have a normal picture of himself while hoping the earplugs blocking out the sounds don’t show up. I’m the one hoping the smile reaches the eyes in time before the click of the camera happens.

 

But what do you see?

 

Do you get yelled at as you get out of the car because you ‘look’ healthy? Do people stare at you as you shuffle through the store because they think you are on drugs or drunk? Do store employees chuckle when you ask for help as they walk away believing you are in jest?

 

Did you have to spend two hours of pain in a car . . . one way . . . to have your picture taken over a river? Do you have to hear the grinding of neck bones and the snapping and cracking of back bones every time you take a step?

 

Do your fingertips ache and hurt and feel like nails are being hammered into them every time you hit a letter on your keyboard? Is that keyboard your only escape and healing and chance at distraction and happiness? Do you pound the nails deeper or give up happiness?

 

I didn’t write this as a complaint about some of what I go through. I wrote this to show you that you don’t know what is on the inside of a person. I don’t go around wearing my illness and pains on a t-shirt or make it obvious. Just know that when you see people that there is a reason they are the way they are. Maybe it’s not a physical thing, it might be they are shy and don’t want to be bothered. There is a reason for it. Respect it. I walk slower, I move slower, but I ‘look’ healthy. And I am fine with that.

 

 

But here are some things I am not fine with:

  • A relative, knowing about my amnesia telling me to not forget about my family and then saying it was his attempt at a joke.
  • A person assuming that if I build up the courage to ask for help that I am just joking
  • A person assuming seeing me walk upright at a decent pace means I have been faking it
  • A person assuming because I have a blog and type a lot that I must be okay
  • A person assuming that because I can type that I am not exhausted and barely hanging on
  • A person assuming that because I can give words of encouragement and love that I must not feel pain inside
  • A person assuming that because I feel pain inside that I cannot give honest words of encouragement and love

 

Two things made me think to write this, one was a comment recently and the other was a thought I had.

 “Friends may not know who you are, but they’ll never forget who you were.”-Ronovan

 

“The best live among us in disguise.”-Louis Dudek

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 21, 2014.

 

My Birth Song: Long and Winding Road-The Beatles.

Ronovan Life, Videos/Music , , , , , , ,

A Birth Song? I created this as far as I know. But it’s the song that was #1 the day you were born. What’s your Birth Song? Maybe it’s not a #1 on the Billboard charts in the US but somewhere else.

For me?

It’s 1970 and the announcement of the break up of The Beatles has already been made. That doesn’t stop the hits from coming.

The week of June 20th 1970 comes along and this is the #1 song “Long and Winding Road”. Some may wonder about a Birth Song. Is there a coincidence in happenings? I don’t believe so. Looking at my life, my notebook, and me today, my Birth Song was aptly named.

What’s your Birth Song?

My Youth No More

Ronovan Life, Writing 101-Blogging University , , , , , , , , ,

My Youth No More

by: Ronovan

 

I was part of the group that had brought him to us. Sure, I had been one of those with some doubts but in the end I thought it would be best for the church as a whole. Little did I know that it would destroy my ministry.

 

There were a number of years you might have called me that Super Christian. I was of the younger generation in the church and thus willing to volunteer for whatever needed to be done. One such thing was youth ministry. As a high school teacher it was only natural that I was drawn to the youth group. I had watched from afar, and then God stepped in and led me to volunteer to help out only to discover weeks later the Youth Pastor was leaving for seminary school and the duty of leadership fell to me.

 

Even stranger is the fact this happened twice. I helped hire the next Youth Pastor and then slowly stepped back to let him take over. But then with the coming of the new Pastor to our church that I alluded to earlier, things changed.

Continue reading →

Connections to my Past

Ronovan Photography, Reblogs , , , , , , , , , ,

Wow. Less than a week blogging and she puts a photo like this out? And she grew it from a generations old bulbs? Whoa! And there is more to come from what I understand. Click her and Follow her. Wow!

Crafting with Kate's avatarDazzling Whimsy

Connections to my Past

These irises have been in my family for generations. Lovingly cared for and nurtured. As they have grown in size over the years they have been split and shared. One bulb has turned into many to be enjoyed by all. When I see this flower, I see my aunt and my father from a time long ago in their gardens teaching me to surround myself with beauty. I see my Pap Pap and the lessons he has taught me. The Earth is a gift from God to nourish our souls if we take a moment, get a little dirty, and spend time together in the garden.

© Copyright-All rights reserved – solitaryfuture.wordpress.com – June 18, 2014

View original post

Take the Pills

Ronovan Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain, Writing 101-Blogging University , , , , , , , , , ,

Take the Pills

by: Ronovan

Coffe and Pills

“Take the pills. They’re supposed to help you,” she said.

The pills looked familiar to me. The kitchen windows had that morning light blue glow. I like that time. “Why are there so many of them?”

“Because the doctor said you have to take all of them,” she said. “We have to go through this almost every day.”

I looked at her. “I just like to know is all.” I took the small medicine cup full of pills. Some of them were kind of pretty to look at and had cool shapes. A mouthful of water and I swallowed them all at once.

“I would choke on all of that,” she said. Continue reading →

Save my country, please!

Ronovan Reblogs , , , , , , ,

Everyone, this is what I mean by following for inspiration and following for learning. I just learned so much in this one article from a real person that my entire view of Pakistan has been changed or at least been altered to think more of the people there than the negativity we always see. Read this!

A Father Leads You Through This World…not just brings you into it.

Ronovan Life , , , , , , , , , ,

A Father Leads You Through This World…not just brings you into it.

by: Ronovan

 

I met my father in the second grade. No, it wasn’t that he had been away for so many years or anything like that. My father is what you would call a step-father. Too me, he’s the real thing.

Father

The person that brings you into this world isn’t always a parent. It’s the person that raises you and helps you become what you are that is your parent. That could even be a grandparent really. For some that is who raises them. My grandmother, who I wrote about in Maw Maw’s Lovin’ raised two of my cousins.

 

But my father showed up in the second grade. He never tried to push any of his own thoughts onto me. In fact years later when I became heavily involved in church he said he didn’t know how it ended up happening because I didn’t get it from him. It’s not that he wasn’t a Christian it’s just that we didn’t go to church. My mother wasn’t a Christian so my father didn’t want to force anything on anyone. I never stepped foot inside a church until my 20s and that was on my own. He had been a Deacon and Sunday School Director and all of that. Oddly I ended up doing the same.

 

People have seen him, my step-brother and me together and say how much my father and I look alike and that my step-brother, his actual son, doesn’t favor him at all. I think it’s the mannerisms mostly that show a resemblance. Well that and we both can cook anything. I get my adventurous foodie from him.

 

I’m proof that it’s not just your DNA that makes you what you are, but your environment as well.

 

One of the stories I like best that he tells is about his time in the military. He doesn’t talk about it much though. But he and some men were flying into someplace. It was a smaller plane and the front landing gear wouldn’t lower. The pilot made them all move to the very back of the plane so as they landed the weight would keep the plane on the back wheels and slowly lower the front of the plane down as they slowed.

 

Another thing about him, and this isn’t really a flattering story but it does show something about him, is that every time he was promoted in the military, he would go out and ‘celebrate’ and be busted back down the next day. He didn’t want positions and promotions. That’s not why he was in the military.

 

He’s in his 80s now, but you would swear it’s his 60s. I know someday it’ll be a last Father’s Day. He’s been through some heart problems and now has diabetes, but he’s actually one of the healthiest people I know. He stays active and is in church.

 

Years ago he came close to dying…again…because of some medications he was given in a hospital. I called my pastor after having visited him because he had wondered why no preachers had been by his room. Back in the days a preacher would have come around to visit, but there are rules and laws now.

 

It was a Wednesday and my church has services on Wednesday nights and youth activities. Well, I called my pastor and told him what was going on and asked if maybe he could visit him the next morning because he was going into surgery and was asking about a preacher.

 

I came back the next day and my pastor had dropped everything on Wednesday, driven an hour away, sat with my father and talked, and then made it back for church. As soon as my father was able to drive again he was back in church for the first time in over 30 years. Sometimes people think that God does bad things for good reasons. But that’s not it. God takes bad things and turns them around to make good things happen.

 

On this Father’s Day I just wanted to say that it’s not who brought you into this world, it’s who helped lead you through it. If you only have a mother, wish her a Happy Father’s Day today…from me as well as from you.

 

Much Respect and Much Love

Ronovan

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 15, 2014.

Questions

Ronovan Fiction , , , , , , , , , ,

Questions

by: Ronovan

Black and White Question Marks

“So you’re a loner, huh?”

“I’m sitting in a dark room…by myself…and you ask me that?”

“This could just be a momentary thing, right?”

“Seriously?”

“Dude, what is your problem?”

“You’re the one intruding on my time and you are asking me what my problem is?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Are you mental or something?”

“If I were the one sitting alone in the dark all the time staring at a computer screen and making up stories that no one will read then you could say I was mental, okay?”

“You’re making fun of me now aren’t you?”

“Dude, don’t you realize you make fun of yourself every time you exist?”

“Why do you have a problem with me?”

“Don’t you think you should ask yourself that question?

“What are you talking about?

“Dude, how many people are in this room?”

“What?”

“Don’t you realize I am you?”

“And who else understands me enough to talk to?”

“Does anyone understand anybody enough really?”

“Am I going insane?”

“Are you already there?”

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 14, 2014.

Friday Night Video Flash Back-Suzanne Vega-Luka

Ronovan Videos/Music , , , , , , , ,

For a Friday Night Videos Flash Back I present to you Suzanne Vega-Luka from 1987.

Feline Friday: The Missing Kitten.

Ronovan Life , , , , , , , ,

My pal Spunky is missing. He has been for a few days now. I’ve grown dependent on caring for him and having that affection. He makes life better. Kitty is still here sometimes, but Spunky was here always and all I had to do was call his name and he came running. So if I’ve not read your articles or been quite courteous in my comments I apologize and just know I’ll get better sooner or later. I just hope maybe the lessons Kitty taught him in Kat-fu will come in handy.

 

Kat-fu
ronovanwrites © Original Photo by RonovanWrites

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 13, 2014.

Maw Maw’s Lovin’

Ronovan Life, Southern Culture, Writing 101-Blogging University , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Maw Maw’s Lovin’

by: Ronovan

 Maw Maw

“Down home Southern cooking can’t be beat.

It makes us well rounded from our head to our feet.”

 

That may not be an actual saying down here in the South. By the South I mean the losing side of the Civil War in the US. Although I consider that loss to be winning in the grand scheme of things, don’t you? But that saying fits because of grandmothers in kitchens across these Southern states.

 

For me a celebration was any meal my MawMaw cooked. MawMaw would be Southern for Grandmother for those trying to speak the language, Southern that is. I’m looking at my New York and Ohio friends out there.

 

As a kid you sat either at a card table or at the coffee table. Be slow and it was the coffee table in front of the TV. Quicker and you were closer to seconds of the good stuff. You picked your preference. I didn’t watch TV.

Continue reading →

The Howl of the Consonant Vowels-The Block of Writers

Ronovan Poetry , , , , , , , , ,

The Howl of the Consonant Vowels-The Block of Writers

By: Ronovan

 Scrablle Tiles

It is said

If one continues to write each day

That eventually

One will have something to say

 

Here I am

To put death to that expression

Within these joined letters

You will hear my confession

 

The timelessness of a consonant vowel

Brings to mind the freakish nighttime mindless howl

Thinking of letters rhymes and reasons

Makes me shiver and sweat regardless of seasons

 

Look at a page of white blank expanses

They laughingly glare at you in pixelated glances

Write on the thoughts demand of the fingers

Digits deliver a message with meaning of one that lingers

 

The block it tackles the image to the ground

Blasting voiced anguish of creation in sound

Stomping bipedal movements don’t relieve

Movements of joints doesn’t bring one to conceive

 

Atmospheric changes dim to a glaring

No doubt these differences is meant for sharing

You pick up a nib to the flat pulp of the earth

Not a single scribbled jot denies you that’s of worth

 

Give up and don’t waste or delay

There really isn’t all that much you can say

Once the images have flittered away

Just kick back with a pint of ice cream and call it a day

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 12, 2014.

Fixing A Hole-The Beatles. I hope you enjoy my anthem.

Ronovan Life , , , , , , , , ,

Yes, I have a sense of humor about my life and situation. I know I am a Beatles fan. So here is my offering of one way to look at my life.

 

The Most Interesting Person I’ve Met This Year is…

Ronovan Life, Writing 101-Blogging University , , , , , , , , ,

The Most Interesting Person I’ve Met This Year is…

by: Ronovan

 

He walks a little slower than most with his head down in avoidance. You’ll see him move his head quickly, almost jerkily at a movement entering the edge of his vision. He cocks his head to listen for sounds that he won’t hear but does all the same.

 

People look at him oddly as he walks through the store. It’s not that he looks that differently than anyone else, but they can tell something is not quite right. If they could see his shaded eyes they might be able to see more than they would care to.

Sunglasses Continue reading →

U2-I Still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

Ronovan Life , , , , , , , , ,

A song for the day.
Melancholy has set in.
And the sun chased away.

It’s not Poetry to me.

Ronovan Life , , , , ,

Open Book

 

I don’t write poetry.
I write micro chapters
Of my autobiography.
-Ronovan

A Loss of…?

Ronovan ML Auto Bio, Writing 101-Blogging University , , , , , , , , , ,

A Loss of…?

by: Ronovan

Loss: The experience of having something taken from you or destroyed.-Webster Dictionary

 

Everyone loses something in their lives. Sometimes there are happy losses, like you lost that hideous sweater your aunt gave you for Christmas one year, actually your mother’s aunt so you had to wear it, until it mysteriously was ‘lost’.

Most often the word loss brings about feelings of sadness. I’m no different, in a way. This is a story of something I lost.

August is unbearable in the South. The sun burns through the walls of your house to tickle your skin with a glisten of perspiration. I’ve said in poetry that the sun is a jealous lover, and I say that with knowledge.

Early Sunday mornings are for relaxation and rejuvenation in most small southern towns. You make sure your clothes are straight and unwrinkled and you sneak in the back door of the steepled building with seconds to spare before the opening prayer of your class.

That’s an ordinary Sunday.

August of 2013, the first month of my life, wasn’t an ordinary Sunday. The sun had taken its toll on me over the course of the previous week and it was about to take revenge on my having enjoyed life in spite of her.

My Sunday sneak in for prayer did not happen. My brain ached, my world spun, and I needed a splash of cold water on my face. Or so I’ve been told. Mistakes are made without warning. You walk down a hallway you’ve walked down thousands of times before, passing slowly from the bright white walls lit from the living area through the grayed area midway and into the dark.

 That is when IT happens.

 Broken Glass on Floor

gettyimages © Original Photo by Matej Michelizza

Was it passing from the bright lit walls to the dark? Is that what turned my mind from light to dark? Was that passage what made me lose my mind?

A few hours later I was in the hospital with strangers around me. Everyone was a stranger.

Days went by as white coats came and went along with brief hopes that quickly vanished. I say I write through the eyes of a Lost Mind. That’s what I lost that day. I lost a filled mind. It is empty now, except for brief flashes of what might be memories.

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 05, 2014.

Hanging out.

Ronovan Photography , , , , , ,

Orangutan In Hammock

Hanging Out

by: Ronovan

Some may ask

How I do to chill out

Well here’s a picture

Of me hanging out

 

 

Enjoy!

Picture and words by RonovanWrites.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-May29, 2014.

 

 

 

 

 

Religion and Sex: What is an Author to do?

Ronovan Writing , , , , , , , , , , ,
Romantic Silhouette
gettyimages © Original Photo by Tizard images

Sex and the Religious; what an odd assortment of words we have there. Those of the devout guild find they are walking a tightrope when it comes to what they will and will not allow themselves to write about. I tend to have a different view of it myself I suppose, but still I’m hesitant.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t plan to write gratuitous orgiastic scenes of origami like contortions. But I think this is one area that authors who are also The Religious are very uncomfortable with for fear of being a bad example to others or feel like they will be promoting something that is wrong according to their morals. Or perhaps they are really just afraid their friends will find out what goes on inside their imaginations. I’m being honest here.

I believe writing should be honest. If a scene in a romance or adventure, or true life story is leading toward intimacy then taking a sharp turn away without any previous reason for said turn would, to me, be dishonest to the reader, the character, and the story.

If the characters are people who are fighting against these urges because of some moral feeling then I understand, but if during the entire run up to this scene there has never been any wavering of any sort then I find it difficult to change my course of writing. And if there is that sudden swerve then there needs to be some show of an aftermath struggle with at least one character.

I know I know it could be that the situation is unique to the characters mind and morals when other things are okay to them to do, but sexuality is something that exists, and even the devoutly Religious fall into it at times. My struggle has been with wanting to show the readers that those professing Religious leanings are normal people sharing normal feelings and falling into situations just like anyone else. It’s sometimes how they deal with the aftermath that may be different or even the same.

There is a romance I’ve written that has scenes where one of the characters is experience these feelings, very intense feelings, and part of the story line is letting those feelings into the mind and having to deal with them. The body reacts and says one thing while the mind says another. You see what the body feels at times. Needless to say, if you know me, there are no words said or used that would be inappropriate but the actions are obvious and telling.

I guess I am in that area of to push through with sharing my visions or whitewashing over them, which I think weakens the entire story.

Sex sells but that’s not what the story is about or for. Sex is just a part of the bigger picture. Sex is real. Sex is not a lie. Denial of it is. So what does one do, be true to the story, or lie and paint an unrealistic character? Do you think the devoutly Religious should leave the topic alone or try to present it as a fact of life that we all face, but some maybe struggle with it in different ways?