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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Nature & Wildlife
- Published: 07/06/2013
untitled
Born 1990, F, from Jakarta, IndonesiaA chicken's peck immediately woke me up from my subconscious. I was dazed; but soon, I noticed that I still squatted on the ground with seeds in my hand. I tilted my head to the left and saw the chicken peacefully perching on my shoulder with its eyes closed. As I became more conscious, I lifted up my head, seeing the sky, hoping I could see the sun up there, but I saw nothing except the grey sky afternoon; such an inclement weather for my chickens. I knew I should have to put them into the shed before the sun sets or the rain falls down. Nevertheless, I was totally an airhead these days! Not only was I so slow to take an action, but also I started to become absent-minded and often I didn't get what was happening.
It was in a chaos; more than forty-five chickens were outside which means that I should catch them for about forty times to get them in the enclosure. However, Adult chickens were easier to manage as they were used to entering the coop by themselves, but it gets more frustrating when dealing with the babychicks. Those little fragile creatures friskily run when I tried to catch them. I suddenly panicked over this because drizzling rain started to come out of the sky. My brother was out of home and no-one could assist me at that time. As the result, my huge panic and anxiety controlled me; I did not have idea which chickens I should catch first! Neither did I know what else to do in order to make them closer. After several minutes being controlled by those unwanted feelings, catching chickens abruptly which unfortunately scared them instead, I finally calmed myself down and was able to think clearly. I went to the barn, taking more seeds as I thought that it is the best weapon to attract the chickens. I sprinkled the seeds nearby the shed. Once they were busy pecking it, I started to catch them gently and successfully put them into the shed.
The drizzle turned out to be the rain, not a heavy rain, but much enough to make me so wet that my clothes clung to me. As I securely padlocked the shed, my mother was shouting at me from the distance, telling me to come into the house. I shouted her back “it won’t be long!”. As promised, I came to the house in no time and my feet could take me nowhere but the bathroom. After showering and cleaning all the mud off myself, I enjoyed sipping a cup of tea.
Father came and sat next to me and started lecturing. It was as long and boring a lecture as I’ve ever attended which the focal point I summarized was to tell me to stop raising chickens. I asked “why would I quit?” He started explaining, but I didn’t get the reasonable answers. All I know is he’s just beating around the bush trying to wind up his daughter who spent lots of time with the muddy chickens. He might be ashamed of how dirty I was as I always deal with dirty stuff like soil or mud every single day. He might want me to be a woman like many other women in my neighborhood who wear a beautiful dress and make-up in many occasions. I knew where he’s coming from. He wanted me to change as he couldn’t bear of me being a Tarzan, a nickname that I’ve got from some girls here in my neighborhood. I didn’t mind people calling me with such a name no matter what their purpose would be. It was probably a playful joke and I don’t think I have much time to think about such a trivial thing. I just wanted to convince my father not to be ashamed. I told him that my daily routine is positive and will benefit me. And if he meant to compare me with most of girls here, why didn’t he see that from the other perspectives. I might be mess, dirty and muddy, but I don’t end up like most of them who get pregnant before marriage, get hitched in a very young age when they can’t afford to live and finally bring too much trouble to their parents. I didn’t mean to judge, I just don’t like to be compared. I think they are not even better off.
untitled(Sri lestari)
A chicken's peck immediately woke me up from my subconscious. I was dazed; but soon, I noticed that I still squatted on the ground with seeds in my hand. I tilted my head to the left and saw the chicken peacefully perching on my shoulder with its eyes closed. As I became more conscious, I lifted up my head, seeing the sky, hoping I could see the sun up there, but I saw nothing except the grey sky afternoon; such an inclement weather for my chickens. I knew I should have to put them into the shed before the sun sets or the rain falls down. Nevertheless, I was totally an airhead these days! Not only was I so slow to take an action, but also I started to become absent-minded and often I didn't get what was happening.
It was in a chaos; more than forty-five chickens were outside which means that I should catch them for about forty times to get them in the enclosure. However, Adult chickens were easier to manage as they were used to entering the coop by themselves, but it gets more frustrating when dealing with the babychicks. Those little fragile creatures friskily run when I tried to catch them. I suddenly panicked over this because drizzling rain started to come out of the sky. My brother was out of home and no-one could assist me at that time. As the result, my huge panic and anxiety controlled me; I did not have idea which chickens I should catch first! Neither did I know what else to do in order to make them closer. After several minutes being controlled by those unwanted feelings, catching chickens abruptly which unfortunately scared them instead, I finally calmed myself down and was able to think clearly. I went to the barn, taking more seeds as I thought that it is the best weapon to attract the chickens. I sprinkled the seeds nearby the shed. Once they were busy pecking it, I started to catch them gently and successfully put them into the shed.
The drizzle turned out to be the rain, not a heavy rain, but much enough to make me so wet that my clothes clung to me. As I securely padlocked the shed, my mother was shouting at me from the distance, telling me to come into the house. I shouted her back “it won’t be long!”. As promised, I came to the house in no time and my feet could take me nowhere but the bathroom. After showering and cleaning all the mud off myself, I enjoyed sipping a cup of tea.
Father came and sat next to me and started lecturing. It was as long and boring a lecture as I’ve ever attended which the focal point I summarized was to tell me to stop raising chickens. I asked “why would I quit?” He started explaining, but I didn’t get the reasonable answers. All I know is he’s just beating around the bush trying to wind up his daughter who spent lots of time with the muddy chickens. He might be ashamed of how dirty I was as I always deal with dirty stuff like soil or mud every single day. He might want me to be a woman like many other women in my neighborhood who wear a beautiful dress and make-up in many occasions. I knew where he’s coming from. He wanted me to change as he couldn’t bear of me being a Tarzan, a nickname that I’ve got from some girls here in my neighborhood. I didn’t mind people calling me with such a name no matter what their purpose would be. It was probably a playful joke and I don’t think I have much time to think about such a trivial thing. I just wanted to convince my father not to be ashamed. I told him that my daily routine is positive and will benefit me. And if he meant to compare me with most of girls here, why didn’t he see that from the other perspectives. I might be mess, dirty and muddy, but I don’t end up like most of them who get pregnant before marriage, get hitched in a very young age when they can’t afford to live and finally bring too much trouble to their parents. I didn’t mean to judge, I just don’t like to be compared. I think they are not even better off.
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