A slightly unacurate portrayal of what life is like oversees.

So, I live in Indonesia. And whenever I go back to America, especially when I went to public school, everyone would ask me what life is like living in Indonesia. So I thought I would write something telling how my life is like here.

Every morning I wake up around 4 in the morning to the glorious sound of the mosque and the cows mooing. I jump out of bed and go to the back of the house and take a mandi (a mandi is a type of shower like thing where you scoop the water on yourself with a big plastic ladle) in the well we own right outside our house. The water is cold and the air is fresh. 

After that is done, I go get my usual breakfast. Rice! I usually eat rice 3 times a day for every single meal, and sometimes for desert. I eat the rice with rice cakes and rice meat, so as to add some variety to my meal. 

On some mornings my father sits at the head of the table wearing a sarong, which is a skirt-like thing that men wear here, it is sorta like a kilt but longer. He sits and preaches to us in Javanese for 2 hours. Since there is three tinkats, or levels when speaking in Javanese, it takes especially longer for him to preach because he has to address my mother using one, me using one, and my younger siblings using another, so as not to offend anyone or use the wrong level. If you use the wrong level of Javanese then people tend to get offended, especially if they are a position of high authority and people have permission to hit you 3 times over the head with sticks, to punish you for your insolence. But my father is very good at Javanese, so he has received less head beatings then the usual foreigner in Indonesia.

After breakfast I go to school. Some days I ride the family's elephant, but my dad usually rides the elephant, so I end up riding the neighbors water buffalo to school. The water buffalo is a large cow with horns, that is used here for harvesting rice. The water buffalo is quite good for harvesting rice, for it is strong and can pull a heavy plow, and the farmer who sits on the back of the plow, and the little kids that ride the water buffalo while the farmer sits on the back of the plow, and the occasional farmers wife that sits with the farmer and the kids while the water buffalo is pulling the plow. It is a very advanced level of farming technology, that I think should be implemented in the states. The water buffalo rice is the best kind of rice, which is why it is eaten for every meal. But unfortunately, water buffalo's are not built for speed, so the 10 minute walk to school often takes 30 minutes while riding the water buffalo. Sometimes more if it stops to poop,  or it gets distracted by another water buffalo walking down the highway. But because of the delays I often end up going to school late.


Now, in American schools you get a tardy slip, or lose the perfect attendance award or something. But that is not the case here. Here, if you are late you get hit with a stick. And then if you come at the wrong time you also have to dance. Because in the morning we have exercise time, and so the whole school comes out and marches around the soccer field, and does aerobics to patriotic music, and sometimes to Justin Bieber. The music blares full blast from the speakers, so loud that the whole ground shakes from the bass. So if you arrive late, you have to dance in front of everyone.
 

For the moments I have no one to talk to.

I have no one to talk to. So I talk to myself.
And tell me whats going on.
It is a fascinating pastime, for it passes the time.
But leaves me feeling quite unsatisfied.

Because this world is so much bigger than me.
With sadness and pain and struggles for peace.
There are so many people and yet here I sit,
talking to myself.

"How's the weather today Bethany?"
Quite fine, today we had rain instead of sunshine.
"How was school today Bethany?"
It was great, for lunch I ate a rainbow cupcake.
"what's your life like Bethany?"
Oh its fine, I'm having a conversation with myself to pass the time.
"And does that make you satisfied?"
Not really, honestly it feels kinda silly,
to think that I, am talking with myself to pass the time.

So, up I get from this silly old chair,
this old chair that keeps me sitting here,
Up I get from my thoughts, my silly little thoughts,
this is the end of the conversation with myself.

My silly heart.

My silly heart, I fear has run away again.
Set off dancing in the breeze,
unaware of logic or reason,
 abandoned to reality.

My silly heart run as fast as you can,
spread your wings and soar,
only tell me when you decide to come back again,
so I can make sure you don't fall to the floor.

My silly heart has a mind of its own,
and with it comes joy to spend,
only I hope my heart stops being so silly,
so that I can be content.

What is now.

A flash. A blur. A sunset in between.
I must focus my mind on the things unseen.
To sing with the birds, and flow in the breeze,
I must learn to be still and wait.

As time hurries past, I must sit.
Not let myself be swept away, I must resist.
As God by my side, I have a new life
I must remember His promises.

Remember His promises, as life rushes on,
Remember His Word, not the things
that have gone.
Life is more than what's in front of my eyes,
I must learn to have life in Him.

My life is in Him.
The Giver of life,
He is all I need
I know He will provide.

Little dream

Sometimes, I close my eyes and see what is not there. Or what is not here. A story comes into my head, and I follow it, and wind around where it takes me. I think its called daydreaming, except I don't usually do it in the day, and I control where it goes, or at least some of where it goes. I always land in the middle of something, and the story goes from there, although I haven't a clue as to HOW I got there, but my subconscious seems to know where I am, so I trust and follow. Today I had one, and I will try and but into words what my strange mind visualizes.

So, I am on a rock overlooking the ocean. And I am happy, not because of where I am, but because of who I am, and who I am with. I am leaning against the shoulder of a guy, and he is playing the guitar. And he is rather good at the guitar, and I am rather content to just sit there and listen to him play. And I am rather content to rest there on his shoulder and look as the sun glows orange and the stars peek out, and the waves crash against the rocks. And I am rather content in general. My heart has a fuzzy warm glow to it, that resembles the glow of the fading sun, and bubbles over until I can't help but smile. I reach for his hand, and our fingers entwine and I sigh and pat his hand. He laughs then says, "You do realize that I need 2 hands to play the guitar, don't you?" I tell him that real guitarists don't need to use hands to play the guitar. And he laughs. I am a witty person. Then I decide that I shall appeal to my true lady-like self, and complain of feeling faint. He raises an eye-brow, and I tell him that I am about to keel over and die, so I maneuver myself so that I exert even less energy than the very little energy I was exerting, and am conveniently positioned in his lap. He smiles and begins to play with my hair. We sit there, in warmth and in comfort, while the waves break below us, and the stars come out above us. And I am content.

Yes, this is realistic.

When I get married, I want to have a husband like Adam Young. And he shall have brown eyes, and he shall be brilliant and see the world in a magical way. And we will go hunt down a rainbow and find the source of its color and then steal some of the rainbow color from the place that they store the rainbow colors, and put it in our house, so our house will look like a rainbow on the inside. And then, when the sun comes up, the house will light up with color and light, and the sun rays will be illuminated by the rainbows, so I will have sun rays, rainbow style beaming throughout my house, and it will be magical. And then he will make me breakfast and I will eat it and be in love with the world, and him, and my house.