Beautiful Wisdom | Celeste Johnson

Tolerance is the stem from which peace blooms.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Celeste Johnson

I have always known the basic use of a colon taught in elementary school. I never knew that I could add it to my writing and be creative with its use. That was an exciting revelation! I poured over all sorts of pieces I am working on trying to find one that I could add a colon or two, changing the structure and pace for the better. Here is a selection from the short fiction piece I am working on before I changed it:

A bit of extra dust kicked up in the breeze, blowing up his nose. He sneezes then grimaces, as the pain in his thigh resonates through his battered body. He leans back against the jagged rock and looks at his lame, blood coated leg. It is now that Hank decides rescue may not come. No one knew exactly where he went. He mutters self-loathing criticism under his breath. He must be vigilant to stay awake, sleep would end badly. Trying to keep his mind alert, he occupies it by remembering how he got into this predicament.

Here is a few changes (including also some of the things learned from part one of Lukeman's book):

A bit of extra dust kicked up in the breeze blows up his nose. He sneezes, then grimaces as the pain in his thigh resonates through his battered body. He leans back against the jagged rock and looks at his lame, blood coated leg. It is now that Hank decides rescue may not come; no one knew exactly where he went. He mutters self-loathing criticism under his breath. He must be vigilant to stay awake: sleep would end badly. Trying to keep his mind alert, he occupies it with memories of how he got into this predicament.

I learned more than I thought I did. I don't know if anyone can really notice the differences between the two, but I did. I like the emphasis on the "sleep would end badly" part. I don't have the previous paragraph posted here, so it might not make much sense, but for the overall piece, it adds a lot to the story. I love these new realizations about creative writing punctuation.

Lukeman Exercise Part One | Celeste Johnson

I gave my paper to Adell to read and she made some good suggestions. There were so many exercises to choose from. It was hard for me to dissect my sentences to see which could stay smaller and which needed to be connected. I kinda did two exercises in one. Exercise two in the comma section and exercise two in the semicolon section. In some parts the commas worked well while others I believe needed semi-colons. I hope morphing two exercises was ok. Here is how the section originally read:

I was sixteen. I was invincible. Late one night I snuck out. I began running down the street to my friend's house. Up ahead I saw headlights. My stomach dropped. My town was small and I was out past curfew. I couldn't get caught. My heart started racing, pulse rocketing high, as sweat burst through my skin. I made a snap decision. I jumped. Uncomfortably landing in a bushy area at the bottom of a pepper tree. As luck would have it, this Saviour of a tree was directly across the street from my friend's house. In a sitting up fetal position, I snuggled my legs and plastered myself against the tree trunk. Hidden well.

Here is my attempt to fix/correct this section:

I was sixteen and invincible. Late one night I snuck out. I began running down the street to my friend's house. Up ahead I saw headlights; my stomach dropped. My town was small, I was out past curfew, and I couldn't get caught. My heart raced and pulse rocketed high; sweat burst through my skin. I made a snap decision, I jumped. I uncomfortably landed in a bushy area at the bottom of a pepper tree. As luck would have it, this Saviour of a tree was directly across the street from my friend's house. In a sitting up fetal position, I snuggled my legs, plastered myself against the tree trunk, and hide well.

Venture #2 | Celeste Johnson

(NOTE to Dr P - After today's class, I realize that I misunderstood the assignment and wrote a story revolving around an object I saw instead of just describing what I saw. So here is a different thing I saw and wrote about. Hope you understand!)

Soft brush strokes, followed by a few dainty smatterings, are just part of the painted canvas in the Cedar canyons. Like a sponge, I try to soak in all I can see. One in particular is a majestic mountain side which caught my eye. The coarse red rocks jut out here and there in askew angles. Some of the etched grooves look like the inside of a half-eaten Butterfinger. Other parts look crumbled, from years of varying weathers. Sparsely dotting the side of this mountainous face are little green fluffs. It kind of looks like Mother Nature took her paintbrush and flung green globs of paint at the canvas. Mother Nature's artist ability constantly astounds me.

The Car Door - Venture #2 | Celeste Johnson

There it sits, lonely and bored, wishing for human contact. A boy walks over and carefully touches the paint. It feels smooth to his touch. “Dad, come here, I found one I want!” Dad walks over, sees the numbers listed on the glossy window; perfectly priced. The boy gets in to drive it off the lot.

*SLAM* The door closes and the car is excited to have its human counterpart.

“Hey everyone, I got it!” the boy shouts out the window as he drives up to school the next day. His friends rush over and excitedly chatter. “Awesome man! I love the sweet paint job!” The car beams with pride.

*SLAM* The boy gets out and goes to class.

A couple of years go by. The boy washes his car everyday after school, whether it needs it or not. The car knows his owner loves him. The boy goes many places and on many dates. Time keeps rolling on like a fast freight train.

*SLAM* The boy steps out in his high school graduation robes.

The boy goes off to college. The boy and the car share many adventures. The car has taken him to the mountains, the beach, friends’ houses, and on many dates. The boy makes a bad decision one night. The car is sad, how can the boy he loves and who loves him, make such a stupid choice. The car tried to stop him by not starting, but the boy was insistent and kept turning the ignition over and over until finally, the car started and reluctantly drove away from the curb.

*SLAM* The boy staggers out of the car with a bright light shined on his face.

The policeman asks him to walk a straight line. The boy can barely keep his knees from buckling but attempts to walk the simple lined course. The car sadly watches as the boy looks like a newborn deer trying to walk for the first time.

*SLAM* The boy is put into another car with handcuffs around his wrists.

The car despondently watches as the police car take away the boy. A tow truck comes, hooks him up, and takes him away to a place where he sits, for days and days, getting dirtier and dirtier. The car starts to give up hope of ever seeing his boy again.

*SLAM* The car is awoken from its glum existence as the boy gets in and drives away.

They are finally together again. The car runs smooth and is practically shining with excitement. The happy moment is cut short as the boy drives the car with less care and love than before. He hears the boy muttering to himself but can’t quite make out what he is saying. The car feels a few splashes on the leather upholstery, the boy is crying. With reckless abandonment the boy takes the curves in the canyon a little too fast. Suddenly….

*SLAM* The car door crashes against a big rock and is ripped from the car with sheer force.

The car flips over and over again until it finally stops upside-down a good distance from its door. The car realizes that the door wasn’t the only thing thrown from it. In the dirt across the road he sees a mangled mess. The car watches as another car with bright flashing lights comes and stops near the boy. There is nothing the car can do as he silently watches.

*SLAM* The doors of a hearse close, taking the body of the boy to his final resting place.

To this day, the car door still sits on the side of the road, all worn out and decrepit; a reminder of the reality of our choices.

Quirky Toes Introduction | Celeste Johnson

Sometimes in life you don't realize how quirky you are until…………..

Late one night, while watching TV with my husband and kids, I laid my legs in his lap in hopes of a foot massage. I was hoping he could read my mind - why do us women do that I will never know. Instead of gently massaging my feet, he grabbed my toes and tried to crack them - like one would in trying to crack their fingers' knuckles.

Crrraaack! He managed to crack my big toe on my right foot.

"OW!" I exclaimed. "That didn't feel very good!!"

Of course Bill laughed and tried to finish the rest of my toes on that same foot. I recoiled my feet and stared at him in only the way a wife can stare at her husband in situations such as these. If looks could kill, I would be in prison right now.

Bill was still laughing when our four kids joined in with their giggles. I guess I really don't have four kids, I have five. I am a mom trying to raise four kids and one husband.

At that point, the kids started encouraging Bill. They all thought it was funny that I didn't like my toes being cracked because they all love it. I sat cross legged on the couch, clutching my legs over my feet in hopes that Bill couldn't muster enough strength to pull out my feet and let the cracking continue.

Not only did Bill try to release my toes from their legged prison, but the kids joined in the efforts, trying to help their daddy. My blood started to boil, I hate being in situations like these. Like a volcano, it didn't take long before I erupted.

"STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I thought to myself that the people in Kansas probably heard me too and maybe, just maybe, someone stopped what naughty thing they were doing, thinking they just heard their own mom.

Silence. Everything was still. All five bodies of my oppressors were frozen mid move. Those few seconds of silence dragged on until slowly but surely, each kid and even my husband retreated back to the safety of their original seats. No one dared to speak; no one dared to look at me.

After what seemed like days, I carefully uncoiled my feet and my legs, breathed a sigh of relief, and that was when I realized something. Something I subconsciously knew my whole life was brought into my conscience mind and it was eating at me, grating at me, gnawing at me, driving me mad.

My left foot's big toe was mad at me, begging me to do something I really didn't want done. I tried to resist it by smiling at my family. I apologized for screaming and turned my attention back to the TV.

Not even the humor of 3rd Rock from the Sun could sway my toe any longer. I decided that I wanted to try, without anyone noticing, crack that left foot big toe, so it would be even with the right foot's big toe.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't crack it! My toe’s cries escalated. One more try, didn't work.

Nonchalantly, I placed my left foot in Bill's lap again. He looked at me. He looked at my foot. He looked at me again, as if I was trying to test him.

I smiled timidly and he raised his eyebrows. The look of utter confusion ran across his face.

"Honey, could you crack my left foot's big toe?" I sweetly asked. All the kids turned and looked at me in disbelief, as if I had just eaten a spider. Bill opened his eyes wide and wondered suspiciously, "Why?"

"I am not tricking you," I reassured him. I could tell he didn't believe me.

I gathered what dignity I had left, smiled ever so sweetly and explained as if it made the most perfect sense in the world, "I need you to even out my toes."

They all peered at me dumbfounded. I explained that I justrealized that my whole life, whenever something happened to one or more of my toes on one foot, without thinking I would even out the other foot's toes by doing the same thing to them.

An evil grin crawled across Bill's face.

'Uh oh,' I thought to myself. ‘This isn't going to end well.’

Bill, with his evil grin, whispered, "Of course I will help you even out your toes, Sweetie."

And before I could pull my feet back, he grabbed my left foot, and cracked a toe. Was it the big toe you ask? Well if you know Bill, you know it wasn't. It was the toe next to the big toe.

Now what a pickle I was in. I had the big toe on my left foot screaming, "Hey that's not fair, I wanted to be cracked." Along with right foot's 2nd toe shouting, "What about me?!! Crack me!"

"OW!!!!!!!!!!" was all I could get out before Bill went hog wild and started cracking toes left and right, but never bothering to even out the toes.

Finally I yelled, "OK! YOU WIN! JUST PLEASE FIX MY TOES!!!"

With a huge smile, and a chorus of hysterics from our kids, Bill gladly grabbed all the toes on my left foot. CRACK! It hurt. Then grudgingly I let him take my right foot. CRACK! Now all toes were the same and even; my feet were painfully satisfied.

All was well...........Or so I thought. I looked at Bill who had a sinister look stealing across his face. He gingerly reached out and squeezed my right foot's big toe. He sat back with a proud look on his face, looked at me, and waited.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Time crept on. Arrrgh! I couldn't take it anymore and pleaded for him to even them out. Bill smiled with utter glee. 'This is going to be fun,' he thought to himself.