• We Are Who We Choose to Be

    Among other things, I’ve been busy working on my poetry book this week. And I started using a different program to create it. After a  new learning curve, I’m now comfortable with the different features, and my book is finally beginning to take the shape I wanted.

    The only drawback is the program’s inability to create a PDF file for the creation of a book’s hard copy. If I manage to sell enough digital copies – should I be that fortunate –  I’ll consider making a paperback copy available by using the original program which does convert into PDF files. I’m not there yet –  my greatest fear is that my book won’t sell, -or worse, people will hate it. While I can’t focus on my fear, I’ve learned to be patient.

    So now that my book is taking shape, and I’ve done my homework on self-publishing, I started writing poetry again. I wrote four new poems for my book today between the editing and formatting. A girl needs a break sometimes, and it felt fantastic to write a poem again. In fact, it felt so good that I wrote three more.

    On the other hand, I haven’t really had much time for reading this week. There’s always a price to pay. But I did read an interesting post which explores the idea of free will (or that was my take at least).

    As you know, free will is the idea that we are free to make our own choices, and act on those choices.

    The post further reminded me of Jean-Paul Sartre’s theory of existential angst. He proposed that the freedom to choose, and act on our choices – with the responsibility for those choices and actions being ours alone, produce a sense of angst.

    I tend to agree  with Sartre on the points he made about freedom, choice and responsibility. Although, I’m not sure why the ensuing responsibility should give us so much angst, or the concept of freedom.

    In his book Existentialism And Human Emotions, Sartre mentions that we are condemned to be free. I can certainly see how viewing our freedom in such a manner would produce some degree of anxiety.

    Personally, I’ve always celebrated my intellectual and physical freedom. I also prefer to take responsibility for my actions, rather than pass it onto someone else.

    To give someone else that responsibility would mean giving up way more power than I’m comfortable with.

    We may not always make the right choice as we go through life, but at least we’ve made a choice. Because what’s our alternative? We remain paralyzed by fear, unable to act at all.

    And that, according to Sartre (if I’m remembering correctly) is also a choice for which we must take responsibility – so much responsibility.

    As you can see, there’s no escaping responsibility for our choices and actions. The post that I read also mentioned the familiar notion of being damned if you do, and damned if you don’t. I think it applies to Sartre’s idea of our inescapable responsibility as well. We are who we choose to be. It’s entirely up to us – whether we like it or not.

    I’d rather be damned for choosing what I believe in – acting on those beliefs and any dreams I might have, than to be damned by sitting on my couch wondering what might’ve been.

    Nothing is ever given to us. We have to go out and earn it. If we allow our existential angst to get the better of us, we wouldn’t get very far, and we’d still be using horse driven carts (it’s the first thing that popped into my head, so cut me some slack).

    I’ve made so many mistakes over the years that I’ve lost track. So freaking what. I’ve also made lots of good choices – like pursuing my education and following my dreams.

    I could’ve allowed all the what ifs to stop me, but where would that have taken me? I don’t believe in ‘can’t’. And I don’t like being told that I can’t. I kinda like making up my own mind, thank you very much…

    I just noticed that it’s getting late, and I really ought to be in bed. So I’m gonna stop soon. I don’t want to take up any more of your time with my late night ramblings. I’m sure you have better things to do.

    Whatever you choose to do – and whatever your dream may be, own it and follow it through. After all, what’s the worse that can happen? But don’t spend too much time on the what ifs. It’ll drive you bonkers.

    Do you want to be damned for trying, or for choosing fear? The choice is yours. And don’t make someone responsible for your choices and failures – most of us don’t have a problem taking credit for success.

    If you make someone for your failures, you may end up making them responsible for your dreams. Do you really want to give someone that much responsibility?

    Remember that tomorrow is a new day.  Don’t waste it on fear. Embrace the infinite possibilities – for the universe is infinite, and so are you.

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017

    Until next time, be kind to yourself. You’re worth it.

  • Mammograms and Call Backs

    Well, it’s getting late in my little corner of the world, and the snow is falling ever so gently. It’s really quite beautiful under the moonlight sky – until tomorrow when I’ll need to clear it off my car that is.

    It’s been a super busy week for me. Work has a way of doing that, as you undoubtedly know.

    Aside from work, I had a diagnostic mammogram on Wednesday….

    It all started last Friday when my daughter messaged me at work to let me know the doctor himself  (you gotta love small towns) had called, urging me to come in with regards to my first mammogram. Apparently his secretary had left a number of messages, and when I didn’t respond, he took it upon himself to call. I have a great doctor, and I suck at checking my answering machine.

    So, I made my way to his office around 4 p.m., and after what seemed like an eternity, he told me that my mammogram had come back abnormal. In other words, they saw something that needed further investigation.

    It was Friday – I was tired and hungry, which means that I didn’t ask any questions. I was also a wee bit too surprised. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always considered my mammogram appointments little more than a nuisance. It never occurred to me that something would show up – I know…I know.

    Right about now seems as good a time as any to mention that this post isn’t about eliciting your premature sympathy or concern, but my take away from the experience. I’ve never believed in worrying without due cause. And right now, there’s no reason to worry whatsoever. I’m so not there yet, and most likely will never get there.

    However, (and I’m thinking this is normal) I was confronted by my own mortality for the very first time, and the truly fragile nature of humanity.

    We’re all just guests on this beautiful planet. Our time here is short. Ultimately, it’s up to us to make of our time what we will. And we can either count the days, or make each day count. I think I might’ve just quoted myself.

    But whatever – the message is true. As the saying goes, why put off for tomorrow, what we can do today? Tomorrow is never guaranteed.

    Again, it’s up to us to make the most of today. It’s up to us to look within our hearts, and follow our dreams. We can’t expect someone to do it for us. That responsibility and freedom can only be ours. Everyone else ought to be too busy following their own dreams.

    That said, I think most of us are guilty of the someday syndrome at some time or another. We get so caught up in the every day, we lose sight of our hopes and dreams. Eventually we forget that we had any, and become complacent – going through the daily motions.

    I suffered the someday syndrome for years. Once I realized my dream of becoming a teacher, I kinda just stood back and went with the flow. I completely forgot that I had once loved to write. I let life get in the way. Sound familiar?

    Then a few years ago, I wasn’t getting a whole lot of calls for work, so I had more time on my hands than usual. I caught the idea of trying something new. You know what they say about idle hands…

    After some digging, I remembered my love of writing as a teenager. So me being me, I started writing with YouTube as my first sharing platform.

    Each video was a slideshow complete with images, music and my writings. They were bloody awful and represented a lot of work. I don’t regret a second of it though – like all failures, it was a valuable learning experience.

    When I decided to try a different platform, I came across WordPress, and never looked back. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in starting a blog. You will soon find yourself surrounded by amazing and supportive fellow bloggers.

    Well – to make a long story short, a dream began to take shape. I wanted to publish. And as you know, I’m finally following that dream. My book is coming along by the way. Slowly but surely – surely being the operative word. I usually set small goals for myself. Dreams need goals to become reality – with small goals being more easily attained, and less intimidating.

    There will always be a thousand demands on our time, and a thousand distractions from our goals. It’s up to us to make time for what’s important. Do we really need to scrub the floor today? Do we really need to spend that much time on social media? Do we really need to spend three hours watching Netflix? It goes on and on.

    We must answer those questions for ourselves. What’s more important? I try to find a healthy balance based on my own priorities. Once I’ve achieved a goal, I’m happy to spend time on other things like reading my favorite blogs.

    Of course, there will days when all we can do is keep up. And those menial tasks have to get done sooner or later. Life will also throw us curve balls. The key is not giving up. The key is getting back on track when you can.

    We need to keep moving toward our dreams – even if we can only take baby steps sometimes. Each step brings us further from where we started, and that much closer to the finish line. Our dreams require a long term commitment, so it’s O.K. to pace yourself, as long as you’re still moving forward.

    There may be steps backwards and challenges along the way. It’s all part of the journey. Each step backward, and each challenge is an opportunity to grow. Embrace it. Give yourself a pat on the back once in awhile. You deserve it.

    ∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2107

     

    Until next time, be kind to yourself.

  • Murder on Birch Street

    Max was lying in his usual spot for this time of evening. He prided himself on being a creature of good habits, and the fire was so inviting during the cold winter months in Fortune Bay.

    As Max looked back on his day, he wondered whether to show Maddie. What would she think? She’d always given him her unconditional love – even when he didn’t really deserve it, but this was different. And he knew it.

    Max was only a pup when Maddie brought him home. He could still remember the children’s joyful hoots as she placed him on the kitchen floor. Of course the children were young then too. Teenagers now with little time left for play – which suited Max just fine.

    He was quite content to go about his daily business, unhindered by the antics of youth. Although he did miss their energy on those days when the cold kept him inside.

    If he’d been gone today, he wouldn’t have seen Mr. Patterson in the bathroom washing all that blood from his shirt. Whose blood was it?

    And while Max was delighted to see Mr. Patterson again, he would’ve preferred a different circumstance.

    Mr. Patterson had always shown himself to be a kind man, lavishing his wife and children with gifts from his many business trips. He mostly left Max alone, for he was usually too busy with other concerns to fuss with the family pet. He left that to Maddie.

    Ah – Maddie. What would she think of her husband’s nefarious activities? Perhaps she already knew. Oh – but not Maddie!

    Maddie, who always welcomed him with open arms. Maddie, who spoiled him since that very first day. Maddie, who made sure he was never left out in the rain or snow.

    She could never be part of something like this – her nature would never allow such a thing. Of course, he wouldn’t have thought Mr.Patterson capable of hurting anyone either.

    Until now, life had been simple. Most days uneventful, but comfortable. Max had no reason to complain – unlike his dear friend whose health was fading. Is that what he could look forward to in a few years?

    His troubled thoughts were interrupted by Emma, who’d come to join him in front of the fire.

    Max had always been rather fond of Maddie’s youngest child, whose laughter rang throughout the house. Although lately he noticed that Emma no longer laughed, or smiled for that matter. Her face dark with sorrow these days. And despite his best efforts, Max couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t believe in snooping, so he had no choice but to drop the subject.

    This evening, Emma appeared in no mood to speak – preferring to sit quietly, as he tried to forget this afternoon. It was of no use though. Was Mr.Patterson really capable of hurting someone – or worse? There’d been so much blood on his shirt. Max scanned the years for a clue, but could find none.

    He couldn’t even remember Mr. Patterson raising his voice – let alone anything to explain all that blood. Max did remember Mr. Patterson playing with his children in the garden, and taking him for the occasional walk when time permitted.

    “How are you, Max?” Emma finally asked, wrapping her arms around his thick brown coat.

    Max could see how sad she was, so he wagged his tail to show that he was doing just fine.

    “How long have you been lying here?” Emma’s voice echoed the sadness in her eyes. Max couldn’t understand the words. Although he had long since learned to understand his family’s tone of voice – all but the most recent.

    “Would you like some supper, old boy?” Max didn’t really feel like eating, but he knew it would make Emma happy, so he wagged his tail in a yes formation.

    As they neared the kitchen, Max could hear Maddie and the other children cleaning up after today’s guests. Max had never seen so many people in the house before, or so much black. He hadn’t recognized most of them.

    So Max decided that he preferred some place more quiet. If he’d known that Mr. Patterson would be there in such a bloody state, he would’ve stayed downstairs…

    It was Maddie’s turn to hug him now. Max noticed that her eyes were even sadder than Emma’s. And she was using that new tone again. Max couldn’t translate yet, but he knew the sound of pain. The affair with Mr. Patterson would have to wait.

    “Lying in front of the fireplace again?” Maddie turned toward Emma, her arms wound tightly around Max.

    “Our dear sweet Max, he’s been waiting for days…” Maddie looked around the kitchen, spotting Mr. Patterson’s slippers next to the door.

    She couldn’t bear to move them. Mr. Patterson only wore them in the evenings when his feet were exhausted from the day. He’d always worked so hard to provide for his family.

    Mr. Patterson possessed little more than determination when she met him. He used it to build his business from scratch – neither of them thinking twice about their sacrifice.

    Maddie hadn’t really given the business much thought. There were so many other details in need of her attention. And while the children were old enough to understand, they needed her to be strong.

    Maddie was still in shock. But she would need to shake it for their sake. If only Mr.Patterson hadn’t gone out that night, he’d be with them this evening.

    The police were no further ahead in their investigation. A senseless act of violence, they called it – stabbed twice in the chest. There’d been so much blood. The newspapers called it “Murder on Birch Street”.

    Maddie realized that she was still holding onto Max – who now spent his days next to Mr. Patterson’s favorite chair. How Maddie wished she could make him understand that Mr. Patterson wouldn’t be coming home this time.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017

     

     

     

    7 responses to “Murder on Birch Street”

    1. WaltPage Avatar

      An attention grabbing read, but I’m confused ( which is normal for my age). Who died, lol? 😵

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        I know the feeling, Walt. 🙂 Your question tells me that I should’ve added another clue lol. It’s actually the Mr. Patterson who died. Before I go and add that clue, I’d like to thank you for reading and commenting! 🙂

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    2. WaltPage Avatar

      Thanks for clarifying 😃

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        My pleasure.😊 And thank you for your very valuable input.💜

        Like

    3. Jennifer Kelland Perry Avatar

      So Mr. Patterson was murdered, I take it. Very intriguing writing!

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you so much, Jennifer! Your kind words mean a lot to me. 🙂

        Like

    4. Wishing Everyone a Very Happy Halloween ! – Brenda Baker Avatar

      […] celebration of Halloween last year, I wrote Murder on Birch Street. It’s a flash fiction story that features Max, the family dog. It also represents […]

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  • The Rising Cost of Pepper

    I was at Walmart last Saturday to pick up a few things we needed like coffee, milk, cereal, cheese, etc. And let’s not forget pepper – the most underrated of all the spices, I suspect.

    At my house, we use pepper on a daily basis, but I never really give it much thought. A sprinkle here and a sprinkle there. But who’s keeping track? Not me.

    Unlike those cooking spices, where I have a pretty good idea of how much I’m using. The right spice can make all the difference – provided I exercise a dash of self-control.

    So…, I made my way to where I needed to be, and as I was reaching for that teensy-weensy bottle, I noticed the price: $7.98 (or thereabouts). Ouch! I hadn’t bought pepper in a while, but I don’t remember it costing that much. Did I miss the train again? Somebody wanna tell me when pepper got to be so expensive?

    This got me to thinking about the 2 litres of milk in my cart, and the fact that it was twice as expensive as the 2 litres of soda pop, not in my cart. It didn’t strike me as quite fair that I should have to pay so much more for something actually good for me.

    Which in turn got me to thinking how pop might represent a cost-efficient alternative to milk for some families – with milk being reserved for the younger ones and for things like cereal. I’m willing to bet (well almost, because I don’t believe in placing my hard-earned money in the willy-nilly hands of luck) that mothers on a fixed income rarely drink the amount of milk their bodies need.

    I’m no expert, but milk still does the body good – these things are always changing, as you know. And, along with calcium, she probably isn’t getting enough other important nutrients either. The same could be said for other members of a low-income family.

    But the bottom line doesn’t care about things like that, I suspect.

    Glancing into my cart, I thought back to my twenties – the extra lean years. I was in university, so money was scarce to say the least. I also had two young daughters at home, who trusted me to care for them. And with money only able to stretch so far, cause it has its limits like the rest of us, I had to prioritize expenses.

    This meant that any juice or milk in the fridge went to the two of them. I didn’t really pay much heed to the fact- even then, I loved my coffee. Although, to save money, I used coffee whitener instead of milk.

    And given the long lineups at the university’s food bank, many other students also struggled to make ends meet. Oftentimes, our common struggle became a bonding point.

    I noticed the cheese underneath the cereal, which reminded me of my beautiful grandmother. Nanny would sometimes come stay with me during those lean years of my youth. And let me tell ya, I’d look forward to my grandmother’s visit for days.

    I dearly loved my grandmother. My daughters considered her nothing less than royalty. Nanny always took the time to listen to their stories, saved up for her attentive ears. My youngest daughter -who was about four then – would sit in total fascination, watching my grandmother eat her lunch. Nanny would take the opportunity to charm my daughter some more.

    Nanny was diabetic, so I planned our meals ahead of her visit. The two things I always made sure to have on hand were Purity crackers and hard cheese.

    Remember, these were my lean years, so I never bought cheese without a meal in mind. It mostly went into the homemade mac and cheese that my daughters loved.

    However, Nanny’s visits meant cheese had become a snack on the aforementioned Purity crackers. I was determined that my grandmother would never know to what degree I was struggling.

    My grandmother passed away some years back, and I still miss her. But I’ll always be grateful for our time together. And I haven’t made mac and cheese in what seems like two lifetimes ago. My daughters eventually outgrew their favourite dish.

    The cheese in my cart last Saturday was for my nighttime snacking habit. As it turns out, I love cheese and crackers just as much as my grandmother did.

    But old habits die hard. So whenever there’s a sale on, I now buy in bulk to fight the ever-rising cost of living, especially if you like meats, fruits, and vegetables. And let’s not forget pepper.

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017

    8 responses to “The Rising Cost of Pepper”

    1. Jennifer Kelland Perry Avatar

      Nice post. I find it cheaper to buy the peppercorns for my pepper mill rather than already ground.

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        It does tend to be cheaper to buy fresh than already prepared, and better tasting. 🙂 Thank you for reading and commenting btw! Wishing you a great week ahead. 🙂

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    2. Jill Avatar

      What I’ve never understood is difference in brands. For example named brand cinnamon $2.99 per 2 oz and store brand same size 98 cents.

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      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        I’m so sorry that I missed your comment, Jill. And I agree, the cost is dependent on brand. I was silly enough to buy an overpriced brand. Thank you for reading and commenting! 🙂

        Like

    3. sheldonk2014 Avatar

      I have found that if you.buy off brand spice
      That use alot of theres really no difference
      My supermarket where I shop.has an international isle and they have there own brand of spice that is cheaper
      The hunt is half the fun

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        I buy off brand too when I can. The next time that I need pepper, I’ll have to see if I can find a different brand. I live in a small community, so our choices are a bit limited compared to a larger urban center. I love our small community though. 🙂

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    4. Dorinda Duclos Avatar

      Wow, for pepper? Definitely nothing to sneeze at 🤧😊

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Haha! Definitely not. 🙂

        Like

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  • I’m Gonna Be a Writer When I Grow Up – Oh No!

    It’s after midnight here in my corner of our little planet. And I decided that instead of sharing a poem this week, I’d share my late night thoughts with you in its stead.

    It can wait til some other time to be posted – which probably makes it the most patient poem I’ve written so far.

    Maybe they’re growing older. I have no freaking idea. Only time will tell. Maybe I’m growing older – that I can attest to. And as you grow older, you realize that time always knows best – and mothers of course.

    In the meantime, it’s been another busy week for me – just the way I like it. It’s one of the reasons that I started writing in the first place.

    I’ve gone back to being a substitute teacher this year by the way. And I love my work. Being a substitute teacher offers many perks – one of which is affording me the luxury of writing in my spare time. A luxury that I will never take for granted – not ever. As I type, I can hear my inner child repeating the words after me. Did I really sound that cute?

    Although it’s only been a couple of years since I started writing, I can no longer imagine myself not writing.

    And as I mentioned in my last post, I’ve finally decided to publish my first book of poems. The idea is still a little scary, but I don’t focus on the fear. Absolutely not! I focus on my love of writing instead. It’s been working for me so far. So fingers crossed!

    I’ve decided to use Pressbooks to help me with my newborn dream. Thanks to the past two years using WordPress, I’m already familiar with its platform, which makes the process so much easier. I can only hope the finished product will turn out as I envision inside my cluttered brain.

    I’ve just about completed the first section of my book – well the rough draft anyways. But it’s a great start. I also have a tentative cover created using Canva.

    The most important thing that I’ve learned so far is the amount of editing required after a rough draft has been written.

    I’ve been going through my poems, and choosing which ones to include in my collection. To date, every poem has needed some form of editing. One poem in particular required so much editing that it’s now half the original length. But at least now, it’s worth reading – or so I think.

    I’ve come across a few of my poems that need so much work, they’ve been put aside for now.  Whether they can be salvaged remains to be seen. Again time will tell.

    The whole process is certainly a humbling one. I can’t believe that I actually posted some of them in such a raw state. Perhaps that’s why this week’s poem decided to take a step back and smell the proverbial roses. There’s no actual roses or any other flowers left here to smell for that matter – not counting the local flower shop.

    We kinda bypassed fall and went straight to winter. It was snowing here again today. And yes, I did say again. Although I will admit there’s something beautiful about watching the snow fall ever so gently while the leaves are still covered in their reds and golds.

    Now back to what I was saying – I tend to go off track more often than not. My grandfather was fondly known as a teller of tall tales – who would sometimes go off on a tangent. I know because I enjoyed listening to more than one of his tales as a child. Maybe I take after him. Somehow, I think he’d like that.

    And before I go off on another tangent, I just wanted to add that I’ll probably publish through Kindle Direct first, then take it from there. So I’d love to know your preferred format when reading a book. Do you prefer Kindle, epub, or paperback? And from where are you most likely to purchase a book?

    Until next time, take care of yourself!

  • Love’s Promise

    by

     

    Two souls now joined in time,

    with love’s candle guiding them here.

    Their union sealed by faith,

    and kissed by Venus –

    Whispering a simple promise

    to hold them forever in her arms.

    For love knows no ego or self,

    but seeks only to lift the other –

    Painting its colours across the sky

    in silver and white

    for all to celebrate

    love’s newest journey –

    An affirmation of love’s promise

    to stand firm in the calm, and in the storm.

    These two souls now complete,

    their hearts entrusted with care –

    Joined forever on this day

    to write love’s next chapter.

    Each word filled with certainty,

    for love’s candle will always burn brightest.

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017

     

    “Love embraces with tender arms. You are the purpose and the intent.”

     

    A poem written for my beautiful sister and her husband who were wed on July 22nd, 2017. This post is a celebration of their love.

    My sister is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside, and is always so supportive of everyone around her. I probably don’t tell her enough, but I’m honored to call her my sister. Love you, sis!

    I’d also like to take this opportunity to wish my sister and new brother-in-law a life filled with joy and prosperity. For in love, we discover all the riches that this world has to offer. The infinite beauty of this world is found in the love within our hearts, and connects us all to one another.

    Love is a universal celebration of life. So please join me as I toast this beautiful union between my sister and brother-in-law. May they enjoy many years of celebration.

    Here’s to a beautiful couple! Congratulations, and cheers to you both!

     

  • Out to Lunch

    by

    Ladies in white hats

    and men laughing in wool suits.

    The captain ready to set sail.

    It’s a party on the twelve o’clock seas.

    An event not to be missed –

    if you have the soul to spare that is.

    The townsfolk paying their weekly dues.

    Empty promises don’t fill the coffers, you see.

    And parties at sea don’t come cheap.

    Someone has to pay costs rising with the tide.

    Townsfolk raising their hands in despair.

    If only they could sail the high seas!

    Meals at home getting sparse 

    for a man sinking below the line,

    hands bleeding in a bid to survive.

    The gulls getting hungry now too.

    They’ll make a meal outta him yet.

    Ladies in white hats

    and men laughing in wool suits 

    placing their bids before long.

    A game not for the weak of heart.

    Another fool trying to stay afloat.

    The chosen few baring their teeth at the sight.

    For greed demands its pound of flesh.

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017

    4 responses to “Out to Lunch”

    1. sheldonk2014 Avatar

      Simply beautiful
      Very powerful images
      And a very strong voice
      You really nailed this one
      As Sheldon Always

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you as always, Sheldon. I hope you know how much I appreciate your support. I hope this comment sees you well. Wishing you a most wonderful week ahead. 🙂

        Like

    2. Tami Avatar

      Hi Brenda 🙂
      I love the cadence in this poem. I enjoyed the contrasts between social classes – made me think how we all have a “life boat”. 🙂

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you, Tami!💜 Rhythm is very important to me when I write. I wanted to highlight the struggles of the poor in a world where even basic needs are unaffordable for some. It also represents my first attempt at some kind of satire.😊

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  • Through the Years

    by

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna be a princess.

    I’m gonna buy a castle 

    and live happily ever after. That’ll be me…

    Well, maybe not.

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna have lots of money.

    I’m gonna buy a mansion

    and live happily ever after.

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna solve the world.

    I’m gonna travel every corner

    and leave my mark. That’ll be me…

    Well, maybe not.

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna make a difference.

    I’m gonna do things right

    and travel the world on a shoestring.

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna buy me a house.

    I’m gonna invest in my future

    and travel to Paris. That’ll be me…

    Well, maybe not.

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna invest in their future.

    I’m gonna raise them to care

    and not make the same mistakes as me.

    When I grow up,

    I’m gonna be ready for tomorrow.

    I’m gonna take another breath

    and accept my mistakes. That’ll be me…

    Well, mostly.

    When I grow up,

    I’ll count my blessings.

    I’ll welcome each day –

    for it’s all we ever have. And all I hope.

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017

    8 responses to “Through the Years”

    1. Eugenia Avatar

      Beautifully written, Brenda.

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you so much, Eugenia. 🙂 That means a lot to me!

        Like

    2. Emily Mayne Avatar
      Emily Mayne

      Such a beautiful poem.

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you, Emily.💜

        Like

    3. Marina Avatar
      Marina

      I’m a friend of Emily’s .. I read each and every poem she shares and love them all!! This has to be my favourite!!! Nice one !

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you so much for your wonderful words and continued support, Marina! I’m truly honored. 🙂

        Like

    4. Rene Avatar
      Rene

      Love the poem…. Very wise, well worded..

      Like

      1. Brenda Baker Avatar

        Thank you so much for your wonderful words, Rene! 🙂

        Like

    Your comments give me reason to smile✨

  • On Being a Teacher-Part 1

    Students Ask the Darnedest Things 

    As a high school teacher, my students will sometimes ask me about what it takes to be a teacher. I always say that you need to like teenagers.

    Obvious, I know. But if you’re gonna spend your week interacting with teenagers inside your classroom and within the school, it really helps to like them. And your students will know. Trust me.

    Students are very perceptive. Never underestimate their abilities.

    Practice What You Preach

    It’s a given that teachers want respect from their students. And just like any other relationship, it should be mutual. In treating our students with respect, they learn what respect is. It also gives them a model to follow. Bonus.

    We can’t assume that when we ask students to treat us with respect, they will automatically know what that means or looks like. This is especially true for younger students, but it never hurts to remind all students, regardless of their age. And the best way to remind them is through our example.

    [easy-tweet tweet=”Students learn by observation. So be a role model for your students.” user=”CyberneticBlond” hashtags=”#teaching #students” url=”https://caffeinatedramblings.org/” template=”light”]

     

    Never Say Never

    Before I started teaching, I would have never considered myself a leader. However, after a couple years in the classroom, I came to realize the ability to lead was kind of a job requirement.

    Our students aren’t mini-adults. They still have years to go before reaching that milestone. My classroom hosts teenagers from thirteen to seventeen, and I’m the only adult in the room.

    I set the tone and direction for my classroom.

    The direction I want to lead my students will depend on the group and my learning goal for the lesson. Students will need guidance to reach that goal. Otherwise, some will make it across the finish line, but many won’t. And no wonder, it would be a lot like navigating an unknown road in the dark.

    Students will have a much better chance of getting where they need to go with a clear set of directions and a helping hand to guide them.

    Therefore, it’s up to me to guide my students across the finish line. A role I’m honored to fill.

    Inspiration Is a Beautiful Thing

    In going after the goal together, it becomes “our” goal. Ideally, students will be sufficiently inspired by my amazing set of directions and enthusiasm to adopt the goal as their own as well. The goal then becomes their goal. At which point, students are on their way to becoming independent learners. Hip hip hooray!

    And I always encourage students to help each other achieve a particular goal.

    Learning is a process, and we will all encounter difficulties at some point. Fortunately, in a classroom filled with other students, no one need struggle alone. It takes time and effort to turn difficult into easy. In working together, students can also gain from each other’s strengths.

    [easy-tweet tweet=”No one is good at everything, but everyone is good at something.” user=”CyberneticBlond” hashtags=”#teaching #students” url=”https://caffeinatedramblings.org/” template=”light”]

    What’s Good for the Student, is Good for the Teacher.

    I’ve been teaching for some years now, and every day is a new learning experience. Over the years, I’ve learned as much from my students as they’ve learned from me. Students never cease to surprise me. They’re capable of so much more than they often realize. 

    To be a teacher then, is to be a life-long learner. The very thing we want to instill in our students.

    Teachers being students as well. And just as we want our students to learn, we must also want to learn. Embrace the experience, for each experience is an opportunity for growth.

    ©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017