Kern Carter's Blog, page 13
January 14, 2023
January 11, 2023
January 10, 2023
Anger
I sit in the lounge.
Tables of four,
filled with chatter and homemade lunches.
Tupperware, tinfoil, peeling fruit.
I scooch my plastic seat closer to the table
the table no one wants — next to the bell.
Encompassed by vacant seats
I rummage my bag for my sandwich;
lettuce, tomato, turkey, mustard, saran wrap.
Mustard ooze’s to the crevice of my lips,
a tear of yellow drops to my beige pants.
The kettle is plugged in next to the microwave.
At my 11 0’clock: boys obnoxious laughter.
At my 5 0’clock: giggling girls —
and their skinny salads.
Someone opens a window,
the wind rustles the cheap shutters.
The kettle starts to whimper like a puppy in its crate.
My sandwich bun crumbles in my hands.
The wind yearns to whistle through the window mesh, but its voice is sullen.
It tries harder,
the shutter's ugly shimmering grows stronger.
I’ve lost my appetite.
The kettle cries.
The sound of sporadic outbursts pinball from table to table;
(when is it my turn?)
I reach into my bag,
(let there be anything.)
I pull out a note. A small yellow-lined sticky note.
It’s mom.
It says “I love you.”
A lump in my throat;
a leak from the ceiling hits the page like a teardrop.
I try to shake it off the page like father does the newspaper —
I rip a chunk of the note off.
(No, no, I didn’t mean to.)
The kettle cries. (Mother…)
I can’t ignore it.
Sandwich crumbs stick to my fingertips,
gazing eyes flick on and off my face.
The girls whisper, (that can’t be at me?)
they sound like the window,
The boys do impressions; (you don’t wanna see mine.)
The kettle cries-
the whistling wind
the ceiling drip
the ladies giggle
the boys belch
then laugh
my sandwich slips and hits the floor
I grip the seat of my chair as if it’s trying to buck me off.
Kettle,
wind,
ceiling, drip
giggles,
belch,
laugh,
clench
kettle
wind-
ceiling, drip-
giggles-
belch-
laugh-
clench-
But the yellow note:
“I love you, mom.”
It stares at me with warmth and shine
like a hug, with no words. (It’s okay.)
But that puppy wails…she wails.
Kettle
wind
ceiling, drip-
giggles-
belch-
laugh
clench
Kettle
wind
ceiling, drip
5 O’clock, giggles
11
Bang!
Tables
laughter, loud
(When is it my turn?)
(No, I didn’t mean to!)
“Wait!”
The bell rings!
Scream.
Photo by Rookie Ape on Unsplash[image error]Anger was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Call For Submissions — Life After Disappointment
As writers, we’ve all dealt with disappointment. Even if we look to our lives outside of writing, disappointment is a normal part of our experience as people.
But disappointments are meant to be overcome. We can accept the emotions that come with disappointment, but we shouldn’t let them dictate how we live and exist in our relationships.
For this week’s writing prompt, tell us about a time you’ve overcome major disappointment. What did you do? How did you overcome your disappointment?
Same rules as always:You can submit to this or ANY of our past writing prompts. Just scroll through our previous newsletters. They’ll be marked “Call for Submissions.”If you’re already a writer for CRY, go ahead and submit.Be as creative as you want in your submissions. As long as you stick to the topic, we’ll consider it.Just because you submit doesn’t mean we’ll post. If you haven’t heard back from us in three days, consider that a pass.[image error]Call For Submissions — Life After Disappointment was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
January 9, 2023
Gospel
By no means is what I say gospel.
I bear no more strength than what the laws of nature permit
and despite my will
I too will succumb to the same fate as a dying dandelion.
Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash[image error]Gospel was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
January 7, 2023
My 2022 Journey: What A Year
Photo by Oleksandr Pidvalnyi: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-of-two-flute-glasses-filled-with-sparkling-wine-wuth-ribbons-and-christmas-decor-3036525/This is my first article in 2023. Yay!! I am so excited about this new chapter of my life. I did some yearly reviews and was surprised by my achievements. For starters, I actually committed to online training from start to finish. Well, make that two. Actually, three.
The first one is the Virtual Tribe training for virtual assistants and the second is Treford’s Product Management course. The final one is Ingressive For Good and MoneyAfrica Financial literacy training.
Just that alone makes me so happy and proud of myself. There is also getting my damn ass out of my bed to write for once. There is a fanfiction series I started last year that I just updated. It took me that long because I kept procrastinating and had an artistic block. This inspired me to revisit my old stories and update them. Might as well finish that web novel I started in 2020, but never revisited because of that incident. Come on Dami!! You can do it!!!
I might as well put Notion to use to plan my content and put myself out there.
I was hesitant about starting a YouTube channel as I was not sure about what sort of content to put out there, as I feel I am struggling with my brand identity. What sort of content do I want to be known for? That is the question I keep asking myself. This came up in a conversation with a coach. She asked me about content pillars and I could not properly answer her. That is what I intend to solve come 2023.
My birthday is ironically on January 25. Might as well do something special for the day. Maybe an e-book with poems or something. Will let you all know in due time.
I am slowly trying to figure out who I am because I never got the chance to sit down and think for myself. I kept on thinking about others but myself. That changes in 2023. I am going to consider myself more now.
I recently did a Cruella De Vil braided look. Might get experimental and do something for my birthday. Maybe Dio Brando-inspired. What is with me and villains?
Ever since I got married, I have been learning to set boundaries, especially with my Mum. She does not like it one bit as she is used to treating me like a baby. I am the last born, yes but, I deserve to be myself and create the life I want for myself.
She is the typical African mother which is a challenge in and of itself. I am still learning and I will make mistakes. It is normal. That is why we are humans.
I am going to write more and keep growing and learning. Let’s see what 2023 has in store.
[image error]My 2022 Journey: What A Year was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Aquarius Girl
Photo by Damir.: https://www.pexels.com/photo/round-brown-and-black-analog-clock-13099808/She is feisty,
She a rebel,
She is change,
When she speaks they listen,
Or they dread her actions,
For she is unpredictable,
Like the ever-changing wind,
Society tries to bend her,
But she refuses to yield,
Nah this lady dances to her own rhythm,
Some label her crazy,
Some deem her mad,
No one understands her taste besides her,
Beware boys,
This one is fire.
Aquarius Girl was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
January 5, 2023
the crossroads
Photo by Clint Patterson on Unsplashi find myself at the crossroads once again. deep in the throes of grief, depression & anxiety, unable to see a way out. nothing is working & nothing seems worth it. i’m tired of having to scrape from the bottom of my everyday existence to find stuff to give thanks for in morning prayers & altar time.
i hold space for these feelings. they’re valid. my therapist emphasizes that at the end of my weekly sessions; even she has to acknowledge that my real life is more akin to an alice or toni novel than what the average person lives, and that i do more harm lying to myself instead of acknowledging & releasing. so i admit that i feel everything is fucked.
at the same time, i can’t ignore that similar to many fictional tales, something always comes through for me to make the story more an adventure than a tragedy. currently playing in the background is walter hawkins’ Thank You:
Tragedies are common place
All kinds of diseases, people are slipping away
Economy’s down, people can’t get enough pay
As for me all I can say is
Thank you Lord for all you’ve done for me
Folks without homes, Living out in the streetshttps://medium.com/media/0fc8a3831dff342e9e448c1138c97831/href
And the drug habit some say
They just can’t beat
Muggers and robbers, no place seems to be safe
But You’ve been my protection every step of the way
And I wanna say, thank you Lord for all You’ve done for me
it’s from my altar playlist. i was in my feelings so i decided to sit with my dead and be transparent. if i can bare it all to my therapist, why not them?? that’s what they want right? the real me — raw & honest. so i do what i gotta do to prep & i sit. and i cry. maybe a few words, but mainly tears. much sooner than i’d planned, i got up & moved to my sofa, not feeling better at all honestly because the depression is being a real bitch today.
but thank goodness for canticumancy. divination/communication through music. there’s a lot going on in my head as the song streams: remembering the moments in my life that parallel the lyrics. recollecting the rams in the bushes that seem to appear in the nick of time. recalling exactly what gma would say when it’d play, “Stacey [my mom’s best friend & fellow church Mass Choir member] lead this!!”
It could have been me (thank you)
Outdoors (thank you)
With no food (thank you)
And no clothes (thank you)
Or just alone (thank you)
Without a friend (thank you)
Or just another number (thank you)
With a tragic end (thank you)
But you didn’t see fit (thank you)
To let none of these things be
at one time it was me. every last one of those things she mentioned. & every time, when at my wit’s end, something came through. never what i expected, but always enough.
so while i can’t speak to whether it will be me tomorrow, and i can’t say that everything is fine right now, i have to acknowledge that the unexpected unexplainable has come through for me many times before and still has the opportunity to do so in my current circumstances.
i have to remind myself that even if i’m only giving thanks for still being here, that gratitude is just as worthy of acknowledgement as the pains i experience here. that i have had unimaginable highs to match these incredible lows. that the insecurities i’m experiencing are part & parcel of me living this realized dream-come-true of being a (starving) artist.
at a time when folks are dropping like flies and losing everything in the blink of an eye, i’m doing one of the riskiest things i’ve ever done. and i’ve been doing it for over a year. making a way out of no way. just going for it.
nobody told me there’d be days like this. there’s no guidebook to adulting. and spirituality is, especially indigenous practices, a unique experience for everyone. everything looks absolutely nothing like i expect(ed) and i struggle with that. but i’m grateful for the tools, and the people, and the lived experience i have because they help me navigate this path. the small signs — like the shufflemancy going on with this playlist — are the breadcrumbs leading me down the road to the next breakthrough.
i’m always at a crossroads of sorts; the intersection of blessings and bullshit is a constant in my life. i’m praying and striving real hard to pave the blessings portion & leave the bullshit a narrow gravel road. as the next song comes on, yet another that has deep meaning for me, i recognize i’m closer to that than i realize. i’m doing better than i think, and there’s more good than i’m able to see at the moment.
https://medium.com/media/6a47346903e991ab222c80906b7d2dfd/hrefi didn’t feel better while sitting at the altar as anticipated, nor did i do the work i expected to. but my people met me where i was, sitting on my living room floor, and this narrative — a much needed break in my writer’s block — is proof that something is working.
’Cause everyday by your power (thank you)[image error]
You keep on keeping me (thank you)
the crossroads was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
