Merindu Buku Tertutup

Hai. Selamat pagi. Kamu terlihat bagus dengan baju itu. Ini sebungkus rokok yang kamu pesan. Tidak, rambutmu terlihat baik-baik saja. Jangan khawatir. Tidak ada yang aneh dengan rambutmu. Tidak, kamu tidak boleh merokok, tapi karena ini mobilmu, jadi semua terserah padamu. Aku cemas perjalanan ini akan banyak diisi dengan diam. Aku benar-benar tidak tahu akan membicarakan apa denganmu.

Ternyata kekhawatiranku tidak beralasan. Aku lupa kamu adalah orang yang punya segudang hal untuk dibicarakan. Kamu, orang yang dilahirkan untuk berada di atas panggung; bahkan jika panggung itu hanya memiliki satu penonton. Aku. Kamu pikir kita cocok menjadi penyiar radio? Kadang aku bertanya-tanya apa kamu menyadari tatapan orang terhadap kita. Apa kamu memikirkan hal yang sama denganku. Apa kamu juga sadar teman-temanku akan diam-diam mensyukuri kita semobil, akan menyadari aku senang berdua denganmu. Apa yang ada dalam pikiranmu?

Kamu lapar? Kita harus mencari tempat sarapan dulu. Silakan saja berhenti di Rest Area itu. Aku tidak lapar, tapi aku haus. Baiklah, aku akan menunggu di toko kelontong. Sudah? Sudah siap mencari makan? Kamu mau roti Starbucks? Tidak? Bagaimana dengan roti di toko kelontong? Kamu tidak mau roti? Mungkin mau beli gorengan? Oh, kamu mau mie ayam. Silakan saja beli. Aku tidak lapar. Minuman ini untukku? Lihat betapa berubahnya kamu sejak empat atau lima tahun lalu kita saling mengenal. Apa kamu sadar betapa manisnya yang kamu lakukan ini?

Mari kita berangkat lagi. Aku tidak tahu kenapa aku membicarakan dia. Tadinya ini pembicaraan yang menyenangkan, tapi kamu membuatnya menjadi seperti sidang bagiku. Kamu benar, aku memang menjadikan dia tolak ukur. Kamu benar, aku merasa rendah diri darinya. Kamu benar, meski berat bagiku untuk mengakui itu. Apalagi terhadapmu. Haruskah kamu mengatakan itu? Haruskah kamu memaparkan aku pada perasaan-perasaan buruk yang ingin aku kubur? Aku tahu ini caramu untuk membangkitkan semangatku. Tapi itu pukulan yang keras bagiku karena kamu tidak tahu bagaimana perasaan itu bermula.

Oh, hai. Halo. Senang rasanya bertemu orang lain, tapi jangan berjalan lebih dulu. Aku ingin tetap bersamamu. Tapi aku juga tidak mau terlihat terlalu lengket denganmu. Kurasa itu sebabnya aku terus mendebatmu.

Aku mau pulang. Sungguh, tidak harus denganmu, tapi barang-barangku ada di mobilmu. Kalau kamu masih mau bersama yang lain, aku sungguh tidak apa-apa. Lihat? Seseorang bahkan menawariku pulang bersamanya. Aku tidak apa-apa. Baiklah, kamu juga mau pulang. Aku perlu pulang sekarang. Aku harus pergi lagi. Kamu kapan mau pulang? Apa lebih baik aku pulang sendiri? Tidak? Baiklah, kalau begitu, ayo pulang sekarang. Aku mendapati debat denganmu ini lucu. Tapi aku sungguh harus pulang. Baik, ayo pulang sekarang. 

Untuk apa, tanyamu? Aku membawa tas besar ini karena kukira tidak mungkin kamu mau langsung pulang. Aku sudah siap pulang naik kereta. Tapi terima kasih sudah mengantarku pulang. Kurasa kamu memang berbeda. Perasaanku terhadapmu memang berbeda daripada yang kurasakan untuk mereka. Tapi... bagaimana? Kamu adalah buku yang sudah kututup bertahun-tahun lalu. Aku rindu. Sangat rindu. Aku merindukan semuanya darimu. Tapi membuka kembali buku yang sudah tertutup mengundang sakit. Apa kamu sepadan dengan sakitnya? 

What is happening!?

I cannot stay silent about the fear and condemnation of women's bodies in media around here. From Ke$ha's denied plea to be released of her contract, to Indonesia's extreme censorship on TV... there are too many unhappy things about women's place in the world.

Gender issues (right, because this is not exclusively about feminism; this is also about the recent popularity of LGBTQ) are surfacing in this world. Last year, America has ruled same-sex marriage as legal. For a so-called free country, I should say, it is not something that raises questions (or eyebrows). It doesn't change their foundation, which is--should it be underlined--"freedom for all." However, it doesn't take a freakishly intelligent person to tell that the move will change the whole world. Or at least Indonesia.

For all my life, and I'm in my early 20s, I have always known America as the Capital of the World. It is the center of film industry, of technology, of politics, of fashion... and as of late, of its attention on humanity issues. FYI, this humanity issues include attention on same-sex relationship. It was not the first country to legalize same-sex marriage, but it was America. Sooner or later, it will change something. The perspectives. The paradigm. The courage to change and speak up.

It just has to be that in Indonesia, it happened sooner rather than later, because earlier this year, there emerged, from a national university, a study group that supposedly discuss about LGBTQ and how to be a part of LGBTQ and deal with both themselves and the society within which they live.  Of course, the university was quick in disclaiming the group, saying that it had never asked for their permission in using the uni's name--and, in the process, severing any relationship between them. The university cannot be held responsible for the radical event.

What, radical, you say? Yes. So, you see, Indonesia is not the U.S. Its legal foundation is the faith to the one and only God. Plus, the majority of the population is Muslims. Same-sex relationship is haraam in Islam. I am a born Muslim. Believe me, I know. It's true. But I'm here neither to persuade you readers (if there's any) to go against LGBTQ, nor am I here to ask you to challenge my own religion. No.

I am here simply because I am enraged of what is happening.

The "coming out" of aforementioned sexuality study group (which, tbh, I am totally interested to join, since, in case you're not paying attention, it provides space to study sexuality; NOT, as what some people strongly believe, promoting LGBTQ--come on, people, be open-minded!) was thought to be an insignificant, seemingly fleeting problem. Especially, since the related uni has publicly disclaimed it.

Unfortunately, some people just cannot let go (and I cannot blame them, truly) because they are concerned with the well-being of their children in the future. To put it simply, this is considered as a rotten image of today's generation (if not another sign of how doomsday is near), and now is a rotten era.

Dicussions were held, both among peers and on TV. I watched it, once. I saw a journalist around my age, a woman, a hijabi, speaking out about freedom--and pretty much what people who have studied humanities would say. Needless to say, I agreed with her. Man, she wasn't even trying to convince anyone. She simply stated her opinion... and she received a counterattack in the form of a raised, emotional, provocative voice (at least that's how it sounded to my ears) by people who doubtfully know anything about humanities at all.

It is, however, saddening to bear the fact that the majority of this country are the ones with that difference. This position of power makes differences more than simply what they are. What began as different stands on LGBTQ ends up as a set of boundaries separating the characteristics of men and women. If I hadn't known better, they seem like a frightened little children who hate something alien to them; little children who fear and avoid what they don't understand. Or are they, really?

Anyway, the boundaries of men and women spell stereotype. And here is where it is connected to feminism, simply because its movements are the ones that soundly fight for gender equality. With the stereotypes coming back, women's objectification comes along. And with that, the second sex situation all over again. TV shows are imposed with drastic censorship, to the point where the slightest bit of skin showing is decorated with mozaics even in cartoon movies. Then also, what blew everyone's mind, the skin of our beauty queens on their beauty contest, while wearing our traditional kebaya. Then, Indonesian Broadcasting Commission publicly published prohibitions to TV stations from displaying males dressed, act, and speak in females manner. Then a mosque for "waria" (men crossdressing as women) was forced to close. It is as if GENDER STEREOTYPES are stressed in almost every aspect in media because we fear we will forget them, and we will turn into LGBTQ once we forget.

Look, I know this piece of writing is not organized and not very comprehensive. You might not even understand what I'm writing. So here's the point of me ranting on and on and wasting your precious minutes: I am enraged (yep, highlighting my feeling) that some people are so tangled in this gender issue without even knowing what gender issue really is. They got a glimpse of the world beyond them, they were not ready... and they pass judgment while looking at that world through their tinted eyeglasses. Again, I'm not asking you to challenge my own religion (this is because Islam is the only religion I mentioned which actually forbids same-sex relationship, while actually it is also forbidden in other Abrahamic religions); I'm just asking you, readers, to learn a bit about humanity without filtering it with any values you may have hold before. You can change your mind after learning it, you can stay with your own perspectives. . . but you can at least learn before you freaked out and condemning I'm, and people like me, kafir.

I am not a part of LGBTQ because I, a woman, like men. It does not mean I am normal and they aren't. It simply means we are different. I am not suggesting to promote or to empower the groups supporting LGBTQ. It does not mean I would ban and/or condescend them. I just let them be. I would not alter the world to suit my values. And regarding the extreme censorship. . . well, I must say it is stupid. I watched the same movies when I was younger, the same movies they now censor but then didn't, and I didn't have any weird thoughts. Truly, censoring it only makes people wonder what's behind those disturbing small boxes that give people the wrong idea of what's really going on. For this, I have something to say: "the pot calling the kettle black." Censoring everything means those people are assuming other people see what they see, which means they are probably the most perverted ones in the whole country.

Quarter-life Crisis

Reaching the peak of our 20s (plus the fact that we are all so sinfully ambitious), my friends and I are probably facing our biggest quater-life crisis right now: the choices. 

For me, it always starts with the longing to escape from my job. You see, I'm working my second job. Unlike my first job as a teacher, I love it here. I love translating movies, I love the friends (although you really can't love everyone), I love the routine. It is all perfect except for the shifting (from which I finally managed to escape due to a case with a night company driver) and the management (which is unfitting its famous name), and sometimes the ones who got away (you know, the would-be friends but drifted apart with spite once we encountered the, ahem, night company driver-case). Sometimes it occurs to me that I might be an escapist who simply doesn't like authority, with little trust to people and quick to judge. But it is not for me to say so; it's your job to judge me as I other people. Be honest, we live in a judgmental world.

Anyway, my friends (with each to their own reasons) and I then went to the same intersection that leads to the desire to pursue higher education. Why education? I don't know. My reasons include the confusion of what I really am doing with my life. I feel incapable, lost, stuck, unfulfilled, dissatisfied, and generally unhappy. I noticed, of course, that this is not only my problem. Some people try to provide reasons. I agree to some of them: the conviction that I can do better--I can be at a better place, I am destined to be great, not just another employee in another company--more often than not, backfires. It becomes a burden.

20s is the age of deadlines. Perhaps this deadline's extended to our 30s, but sooner or later it will end. Name it. Marriage, family, education, career... most people want theirs to settle before 30, 35.  In our quarter-life, that leaves us with only 5-10 years. Meanwhile, there are lots of things we want to pursue and those things are no longer the small stuff like the highest grade in class or the books we want to buy. We want a partner in love, not just husband or wife. We want the romance as well as the punctuality. We want a family before we're too old to do anything. We want to learn, to study, to travel, and to know the world. We were told that we can. We want to keep concerning ourselves with issues in life, be it social or humanities or scientific. We want to become a part of the world; we want to contribute. We want to climb our stairs career-wise. We have big dreams, but it all takes time.

I want to study culture and gender and feminism and theology and Islam and media and film and advertising and journalism and creative writing and literature, but I can't study them all. I have to have one focus to pursue. Would I rather pursue practical skills that can be put to work, or pursue what I am passionate about? In a rare case, someone can be so lucky so as to find a string connecting the two. If I pursue the practical skills, will I be happy once I get them to work? If I pursue my passion, will it provide for my life? Would I rather be idealistic or realistic? Can't I be both?

When I finally decided I want to pursue higher education first (because I haven't found the perfect workplace and I haven't had anyone with me to marry), I was faced with yet another set of options. Such was described in previous paragraphs. I made up my mind, or I thought I did, to study Creative Industries. The path is clear. I'm working in media industries as a translator (which can actually lead to two directions: media and/or translation) and I am interested in the relationship between media and culture. Creative Industries major has answers for them. However, it asks me: what will I focus on? I can't just study for the sake of studying. I don't have the answer yet.

I put misery to my life by overthinking it, as usual, and it confuses me too much. I'm not used to not having answers. I am a good student. I'm sure I can follow the classes diligently and successfully, but I'm not used to having to find my own question and answer. What will I do in life? What will I contribute to Indonesia, to the school, to my community? What will I give in return of the money the scholarship will invest on me? Giving answers would be easy; following up and be sincere wouldn't. I can't just say I want this to give me back my self-esteem and satisfy my thirst for knowledge (which will be an honest thing to say).

Anyway, in the midst of confusion, an offer came that almost immediately pull me and my life that way. There's this girl, who is a friend of a friend of mine, who used to test me for novel translation. I contacted her after I decided to quit my current job. Surprisingly, she offers me another novel translation project and even proposes that I become her proofreader next month. Being a proofreader/editor/translator has always been more interesting to me than I want to admit. It seems a simple task, but I truly enjoy it. It is practical, too, so I won't have to worry about not having a job. It is a concrete and sought after job. Without a second thought, I accepted her proposal. It could be a fulfilling freelance job while I complete my requirements for the scholarship. Killing two birds with one stone.

As if it is not enough a joy to hear, she read my CV and saw that I have published a fiction teen literature. She told me she's an editor at a well-known publishing company and encouraged me to send her my novel drafts, if any. She said she would love to edit and revise it if it's deemed worthy of publishing.

Oh, God, mercy!

It's a dream I have gradually forgotten. Buried in my deepest, silent heart. And my heart is never not noisy. I never thought it would come again like a new wounded flesh. So real and so close and so painful--it reminds me that it is still alive and burning.

Therefore, it is natural that I am drawn to the force of this dream. But while my heart is fluttering at the thought of picking up where I left it off, my conscience tugs at me and says, "What about all the plans you have in mind?" What about all the practical skills I have planned to learn? What about the issues and purposes you have prepared to be the key weapons in the scholarship essays and interviews? What about all the plans you have in mind?

I was never one to just abandon my heart, and all these times, things went great if I follow my heart. Moreover, the older I get, the rarer my heart tells me something. I cannot just refuse to hear what it is telling me now. It is fluttering when it hears the news, for God's sake! This is definitely not something I can just walk past by.

What scares me is that it almost immediately made me think I don't need this media and practical skills. I don't need to pretend I'm interested in cultural policy so much that I want to work in that field (because truly, I am interested in studying and learning all about it, but the prospect of working in that field does not appeal to me, like, at all). I am not ambitious to pursue a career in media.

But how much can I profit from writing fictions? If I'm J.K. Rowling, it would probably be enough for life.

I can always translate things. It is so tempting to just take a class and get certification for translation. I can edit books and papers. And then I'll get back to writing stories. I can probably get some published. I can always be an interpreter if I grow tired of seeing papers and documents. I can just take another class of interpretation. Or I can pursue a major in translation, although I still don't think it should happen anytime soon. Or probably I can take a major in literature. You know, studying world literature to see how other countries represent their culture in the books and all the pieces of writings. I can find some ways to represent Indonesia to the eyes of the world. I don't want to be a lecturer... but probably it's for the best? Or I can just be a researcher in Indonesian literature?

You see, I set my heart to writing and publishing and I want to try my best to make something out of it. I know I will, eventually. But it takes time to really break it down and find the concrete answers and then explain it to my parents, because I know they expect the best from me. And they think I'm not destined to be just another somebody. At least, my father does. He sees me as a minister of everything wonderful and foreign and influential. He sees me as a boss of a start-up, promising company. He sees me as a manager from a well-known corporate. He sees me as someone I think I can, but I'm not sure if I want to, become.

Oh, he'll accept my explanation, for sure, but it is scary to see the slight disappointment in his eyes if I seem to be unsure of my future, or if that future is something he does not understand. Still, in this quarter-life, I have to admit I don't know many things. I don't know if this is the right way or that is the correct path instead, or if my life will be prosperous in the future. I'm not good at planning. I don't know the answer to everything, and everything might not go according to plan. And sometimes I don't even know what I want.

It's a lie when they say teenage period is the period of confusion. 

Being a Teacher (2) - Colleagues!

Anyway, in my first two weeks here, there are so many new things happened to me. I am appointed as the Project Officer for the International Day. My right hand would be a new Japanese teacher: Dara. Since we are both new, Mbak Sasha & Mbak Beppy help us a lot. Mbak Beppy is a French teacher, by the way. We are planning to have a UN Conference simulation.

I met a lot of people and made a lot of new friends here. Not just some, but a lot. Well, I don’t know if most of them consider me as their friend; they must think of me as their teacher!

Of course I met and made friends with the teachers. They know me as Mbak Sasha’s assistant, but mostly they recognize me as the niece of the Junior High School’s Headmaster. I don’t mean to whine, but really, there’s a certain professional line bordering us here. At least that’s how I feel. Or maybe it’s just that I haven’t really got to know them. After all, it’s only my second week.

We have our own pigeon hole at the teachers’ room, and we talk about the students all the time. It’s one of the nicest things about Garuda Cendekia; here, we know the students’ personal background. It’s almost like the teacher and the students have special bond or something. Maybe it’s also because most of the students have been there since elementary school.

Being a Teacher (1) - Keeping Up

Hi.

So the thing that I want to tell is you is about me, being a teacher. I had never thought I would become a teacher because it had never been my dream job. For now, it has only been two weeks, so I cannot say for sure whether I am going to like it… but so far, these have been an exciting week.

You don’t say, not every day is a happy day. There were days when I felt like giving up and painfully overwhelmed, and there were also days when I feared going to class. But there were also days when I felt self-satisfied and my confidence is boosted. Those were the days when I managed to find the other sides of my students. These days, both the bad and the good, will come to me again in the future. That, I know of.

If there is one thing I realize, it would be that teaching feels like doing a presentation for a class everyday. Imagine you have to do a presentation every single day! Every morning, I get up with some kind of burdened feeling of wanting the day to end soon—because you just know a lot of people will have their eyes on you and they will evaluate you. It does not matter whether you have the authority to score them; they will evaluate you. They will decide whether to behave or to mess with you. But of course you have to go through with it—there’s nothing you can do about it—and some days, you’re just sorry they end so soon.

I don’t know much about being a teacher, so I have to struggle to adapt. Let me tell you, it is no cheap deal. Working with Mbak Sasha, my senior both in college and at work, especially, is a lot to do. She is very discipline and thorough, and she is really, really smart. She arranges her teaching materials into folders (both the digital and physical ones), she thinks of the ways to make the school better in a way that makes me get the feeling that she is somewhat revolutionizing the school, and she even makes a great teacher! My feeling says she devotes her life to her school. No wonder, really, considering it’s her school.

At first, I had a hard time keeping up with her. Fortunately, my second week with her is generally better than the first and it means that I’m improving. Even just the thought gives me a kind of relieving self-satisfaction.