Kern Carter's Blog, page 19
November 20, 2022
November 17, 2022
Here’s What I’m Grateful for
Photo by Gabrielle Henderson https://unsplash.com/photos/M4lve6jR26EBefore I get started on this week’s prompt, I’d like to give a special thanks to our amazing editor, Kern Carter, for letting me pitch this week’s writing prompt. I was feeling very discouraged as a writer and wondered if writing was even worth pursuing anymore. I wanted to give up. But reading everyone’s stories here at CRY has woken the writer within me and keeps me going through the hard times in life. I’m very grateful to all of you for sharing your stories and happy to have a safe and welcoming space to express myself. Thank you!
My Family
Photo from Gracious Quotes: https://graciousquotes.com/family-quotes/I’m incredibly grateful for my husband and kids. Growing up, family life wasn’t easy for me. I grew up around verbal abuse and neglect and never felt safe to truly be me. Being a loving and nurturing person, being a wife and Mom is one of my highest achievements. My family teaches me something new each day.
I’m grateful for my husband’s strength, and I admire how he keeps me grounded when my head’s usually 99% of the time up in the clouds. He pulls me out of my depression and anxious moods by calmly talking me through things and encourages me to do something I love to do to boost my spirits again. I’m grateful to have a rock to lean on when things get hard.
I’m grateful for my two daughters. Although parenting them isn’t easy, the personalities of my oldest and youngest shine through in their way, and they have taught me patience. My youngest, who’s an extrovert, teaches me that it’s okay to be silly, sassy, determined, and full of flair, and with my oldest, I learn to embrace introversion. Our shared introversion helps me empathize with her more often. She teaches me calmness, patience, grace, and to speak up when needed. I’m grateful for their kind spirits and that I get to watch them grow up and learn each day.
My Heart and Soul
Photo from Quote Fancy: https://quotefancy.com/quote/8587/Vincent-van-Gogh-I-put-my-heart-and-soul-into-my-work-and-I-have-lost-my-mind-in-theIn my previous article, Wearing My Mask for Protection, I mentioned that I was guarding my sensitive side and that I didn’t want to make myself vulnerable. That still rings true. I’m grateful for my heart and soul. I love being a sensitive, kind-hearted, and warm person. However, I’ve become more guarded about whom I open up with. I learned to set boundaries, take care of myself by keeping my emotions in check, and that I validate my feelings and the feelings of others. My sensitivity is a strength and one worth protecting. I’m grateful I have the opportunity to show my heart and soul through my actions and encouraging words. This brings me to the third thing I’m grateful for.
My Writing
Photo from Quote Fancy: https://quotefancy.com/quote/3130/Ana-s-Nin-The-role-of-a-writer-is-not-to-say-what-we-can-all-say-but-what-we-are-unableLast but not least, I’m grateful for the gift of writing. Writing has always been an outlet to let my feelings and emotions flow after a long day of facing the world. Letting all the words out that were endlessly swirling in my head, creating something great out of nothing, putting all of these complicated feelings I couldn’t verbally express, and playing around with words fascinated me and still does to this day. Even writing about the mundane things in life has me appreciating the written word that much more. I’m grateful to want to keep writing and have the eagerness to learn more about how to further develop my craft. I was given a gift and seeing others pursue their talents, no matter how hard or how many rejections hit them, has given me hope to never give up on the things I want most in life.
Even if I don’t become a famous author, I’d like to know that my words matter. That my writing has impacted at least one person out there, and I feel fulfilled knowing I’ve created something good for the world to see. I’ll never stop learning as a writer, and would one day love to help other aspiring writers to achieve their dreams. I don’t know what the future will hold, but I do truly hope I’ll still be writing, even when I reach old age. I’m grateful for the written word and the impact that writing makes.
There are many more things that I’m grateful for, like journaling, music, art, community, love, friendship, the seasons, and more. For this prompt, I figured I’d cover the things I’m grateful for the most. Thank you to those who read this, and I’m deeply grateful to all of you!
[image error]Here’s What I’m Grateful for was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
November 16, 2022
Link to next workshop
So I’m doing one more free workshop for the year. This one will be about how to make money as a writer.
If you’ve been to my last two workshops, you know we go deep and give practical, advanced-level strategies. I want you to be a superstar and so I give you everything that’s in my mind and let you decide what works for you.
Here is all the info you need:
Link to sign up: Writers Making Money
Date: Saturday, November 26
Time: 12:00–1:00 PM EST
Cost: Free
Hope to see you there!
[image error]Link to next workshop was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
November 15, 2022
What is Home?
Artwork by author (Agnes)What, not where is home? I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. I think we’ve been wired to think of home as a place, and a little part of us will always look for that. Like if no place immediately comes to mind, it’s because it’s still out there for us to find.
The more I travel and talk to friends who have moved abroad, the less I believe home is a city, a town, or a house. It’s becoming a little harder to believe in the mythical place where you can always return where it feels like a perfect fit. People change, as do places. Map coordinates will always fall a little short of describing home.
They say home is where the heart is, but this, too, has started to feel off. I’ve got pieces of my heart sprinkled all over the globe, or if not all over the world, at least, there are enough miles separating them that I couldn’t possibly call home. Their intersection is probably somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Even if I had the coordinates, I wouldn’t know what to do with them.
But if home is not a where then what is home?
As I write this, I feel like I should disclose that I do not have a definite answer. I’m still working on it. I can tell you where I’ve found home and maybe we’ll glean something from that together.
I’ve found home in a song from my teenage years, suddenly playing on the speakers at a clothes store. Looking around to see several people nodding their heads and lip-singing along to the angsty lyrics.
I’ve found home in a book—in many books: old ones I’ve read so many times I should know the words by heart and new ones that I came across just at the right time — marveling at how the author found the words to describe something I felt but hadn’t found words for.
I’ve found home in the kindness of a couple of strangers who shared a drink with me on a day I was feeling low; and a stranger in a park who found home in my accent and spent some time sharing his favorite things about the city I was visiting at the time. I found home talking to a fellow traveler after we noticed we were both journaling in the park, and I found home among the strangers speaking a language I learned and half-forgot at the next table in a restaurant.
I’ve found home in the scent of a particular pine tree on a random hike which suddenly brought forth so many childhood memories I felt like I had traveled in time.
I’ve found home in my goddaughter’s smile; I find it there every time she shines my way.
I’ve found home in hour-long phone calls with my brother.
I’ve found home in a sweater I half borrowed, half stole from my father. It’s baggy and too big on me, but it feels comfier than any other piece of clothing.
I’ve found home in a vase of tulips I bought for myself, and kept on the bookshelf by the door, so well cared for they lasted longer than they should have.
I’ve found home in a landscape so breathtaking, so enveloping, so overwhelmingly beautiful that it seemed to erase every worry and question in my head.
I’ve found home in a cafe filled with books and fellow book lovers.
I’ve found home in friends, family, and strangers. I’ve found home in well-worn items and familiar spaces and unknown places.
And when I can’t find it, when it doesn’t sneak up on me, or I’m too far from the things and people who help me build it, when all else fails, if you will, I write. I can always craft a home of words to dwell in for a while.
What do you think? What is home? A place? a person? a feeling? a thing we have? find? build?
Written in response to the prompt What is Home? Keep ’em coming Kern Carter
PS: If you like the illustration, follow me on Instagram for more: @medusasmusingss
[image error]What is Home? was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
As a Father
One day,
as a father,
I hope my hands are stern yet gentle,
my feet, forward yet slow-
so I may learn as much as I teach.
I hope my knees bend as painlessly
as their necks tilt up.
I pray my laughs shine louder than my lecturing,
but only by a little;
and I hope the goodnight whisper
is the loudest of them all.
Pixabay[image error]As a Father was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
November 14, 2022
My Experience with the Zuri HNG Internship
Photo by fauxels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-person-using-laptop-3183174/I was excited when Zuri sent me an email about their HNG internship weeks ago. My excitement would later turn to horror as the program progressed. I chose the Digital Marketing track as I am trying to transition into that area.
The first task they gave us after familiarizing ourselves with the LMS system — Slack being a huge one. We created a blog with websites other than WordPress and Wix.
I chose Tumblr as it is not that popular in Nigeria, at least to my knowledge. Some students used Medium. The first assignment they gave us was to write a short blog post promoting one of Zuri’s products and use a keyword and try to justify the keyword.
I went with Zuri books because of the low competition. I wrote a short blog post on Tumblr and submitted it to them. They scored me 6 out of 10 and I advanced to stage 2.
I was confused by this because this is the first time I would see such a concept used in an internship. The next part was that we had to join groups and each person from each track would have to complete tasks in projects.
I joined different groups because the management kept on dissolving groups which I found weird. What was going on? The ultimate insult came yesterday when I tried to log into the Slack group only to find that I could not log in.
It was then that it sank in. They kicked me out because I did not advance to stage 3. This angered and hurt me. I vowed never to ever sign up for any Zuri internship after this.
Just that action alone shows how worthless some online internships and training are. Why waste my time on something like that when I can always learn some of that shit online via YouTube and get free e-books and stuff and create an impressive portfolio afterward?!
This blog might as well count as a portfolio of sorts. In fact, I can use my Tumblr blog as a free promotion for myself. Screw them. I am not allowing some bitches to determine my worth. I am way more than that internship. Periodt!!
[image error]My Experience with the Zuri HNG Internship was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Eidetic
I have a great memory;
yet the only thing I can remember from science
class is that
“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”
That’s how much I hated Science,
my brain just…shut down;
it wasn’t thinking, it was knowing;
I don’t wanna know,
I wanna think.
But how I wish my brain shut down for the things
I shouldn’t’ve seen,
like the death which makes my eyes bluer,
or the bruises that left me clutching my heart,
or when stronger wills had their way with me.
But most of all,
it’s the unspeakable things;
the details of which cause so much pain
the ink I use to write with
weeps at its own purpose…
“Please,”
I don’t wanna know,
I don’t wanna remember,
I just wanna think.
In peace.
istock Malombra76[image error]Eidetic was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Call for Submissions — Who do you see in the mirror?
I know, I know. I’m getting deep. And personal. And maybe making you a bit uncomfortable. But this is CRY and sometimes we need to push ourselves to get to true vulnerability.
For this week’s writing prompt, I want you to tell me who you see when you look in the mirror. Then I want you to tell me who you WANT to see when you look in the mirror. Are those two people the same? If not, why?
Really take your time with this prompt and reflect on the question. The new motto I’ve been kinda going by for CRY is WE CRY DEEP. This is one of those WE CRY DEEP moments.
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 — Who do you see in the mirror? was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
November 10, 2022
It’s not the cruelty that gets you
I’m standing in my kitchen, washing dishes, with Jon Stewart on the TV to my left. He’s interviewing Chase Strangio from the ACLU and two sets of parents of trans kids.
I flash back two years to the 2021 Texas legislative session. My friend and I sat on a couch in a legislative office, nursing our worn-out feet, begging yet another legislative aide to convince his boss to vote against a bill that would designate us as child abusers if we choose to let our children access the gender-affirming medical care their doctors have recommended.
Photo courtesy of Pexel. Artist: Lisa Photio @lisa.photiosThe aide made lots of eye contact while he smiled and nodded at us, purposely not looking at his watch. I could see another aid behind him, sleeves rolled up as he stared at his computer screen, smirking a bit as he eavesdropped.
Then, our aide smiled and leaned toward us as he said, “….we’ve introduced legislation that will make it harder for CPS to remove children from their parent’s home.”
What? I thought. I shook my head slightly to try to clear it. Like maybe I didn’t just hear him say that. Again, I thought. What?
My neurons seemed to have stopped in place, refusing to form words beyond this single syllable. My emotions similarly froze in place behind some deeply protective wall. Happy, sad, and angry were all impossible. I could only feel a blank weight weighing down my heart and lungs.
I noticed details: the florescent lights coming off the ceiling, the aide’s ice blue eyes, slick dark hair, the smirk on his upturned lip, his not-yet-filled-in chest under his crisp white shirt, the smooth jaw that looks not-yet-capable of growing a beard. His conservative youth was a stark contrast to my white bobbed hair and my friend’s pale blue undercut.
Perhaps he’s trying to comfort us? I finally thought. It’s an odd form of comfort, telling us that even if the legislature decides to call us child abusers, child protective services might just keep investigating us indefinitely rather than take our kids away. But I don’t think he was aiming for comfort. He looked too much like a power-hungry cat batting at a mouse it plans to kill.
But his cruelty didn’t make me cry. It stayed with the blankness I felt with each vote banning kids from playing on sports teams that match their assigned gender when Ken Paxton declared that gender-affirming care for minors was child abuse, when Greg Abbott instructed DFPS to investigate families of trans kids, or when my friends started moving out of the state. My emotions were too big for me to feel, leaving only a vast blankness. Blankness doesn’t lead to tears.
On my living room television, Stewart starts interviewing Arkansas Attorney General Leslie Rutledge about a law that blocks children from receiving gender-affirming medical care.
Rutlege says a few things I haven’t heard before in her justification for this law. She could be Charlie Brown’s teacher for all the sense her words made.
But Stewart leans toward her and gently, oh so gently, says, “Well, that’s a bunch of made-up data. What’s your source?” He remains infallibly kind as he disagrees with her. He ends the interview by saying he would move heaven and earth if his child was suffering and there was a treatment that would help. He told her he believed she would do the same thing, and he hoped her law would be overturned.
Something in Stewart’s gentle, respectful demeanor unlocked the emotions that hadn’t felt safe to feel. My tears mix with the warm dishwater. I have to empty the sink. I have to sit down.
It wasn’t the cruelty that made me cry. It was kindness.
[image error]It’s not the cruelty that gets you was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
