my first open-mic
November kemarin pertama kalinya aku bacakan tulisanku di hadapan banyak orang
Last November, I impulsively registered for an open mic by Undisputed Poetry. They opened 12 poets to read their poetry. I knew damn well my motivation to register for that open mic was mere escapism from my SKRIPSI (please pray for me so that I’d finished that shit ASAP). I opened up my note, thinking about which of my writing I meant to read out loud. Dua Pengelana was my choice then. I couldn’t stop thinking about how to deliver that piece of poetry so that people could understand my point since it was hard to read expressively.
Throughout a week, I tried recording my own voice-reading Dua Pengelana, and every time I re-listened to it, I hated my voice. I was afraid of being cringe, that they wouldn’t resonate, and I was afraid of my way of reading Dua Pengelana because it sounded so flat. I’ve tried to change my reading style but I thought it didn’t suit Dua Pengelana, so I chose to read it the way I read, the flat one.
At 4 pm on Saturday, I went to the C2O Library. Ilma was already there, she promised to accompany me. I am grateful for that, it calmed down my nerves. The Undishooman was also so kind and warm. They created a safe atmosphere for the poets. They arranged the “mini-stage” with one mic in the middle, and we gathered around it; the lights were dim, warm, and yellow. Somehow, I thought this was resembling Dead Poets Society, where they did a poetry reading once in a while. When it was finally my turn to read (I was the first one btw), surprisingly It wasn’t as nerve-wracking as I thought. I’d repeat it once again, they were so kind and lovely and warm and welcoming:((((((( I slowly enjoy the way I read, my fears gone. I finally did it. I enjoyed the rest of the event. I got to see how amazing the other poets were, I could feel the tension, the anger, the happiness, the frustrations. I aspire to be able to read (and write) like them someday.
I told Ilma to take a picture and occasionally record me when I read, but she refused. She turned on the camera from the beginning I read until the end. I was too shy to play it but then I chose to open it because I was also curious about how I read. I burst into laughter when I played it. Why did the way I read sound so flat? AHAHAHHA. I kept replaying it and I concluded that I needed to learn more.
That was my first experience reading my pieces in front of many people. I didn’t feel my excitement as big as I thought I’d be; I couldn’t define what I felt; it was just…..that’s that. Hzmzmzzm I thought this was because I was frustrated about my thesis and this whole frustrating adulting (ya, again and again, chronic yearningitis). Why couldn’t I live here and now? Not worrying about the future and regretting the past? It was so hard for me to cherish my “small first time”, but I think now I’m allowing myself to cherish my baby step of becoming someone/something I’ve wanted. A message from Salfa reminded me that last year, we attended the same event as an audience, and this year, I got the chance to finally let others hear my voice.
Back when I was in elementary school, my Bahasa Indonesia teacher told me to read a puisi Karawang-Bekasi by Chairil Anwar in front of the classes. She gave an example of how to read the poem first. She read it theatrically but I couldn’t do the same, so she told in front of the classes my “score”. I remembered it was 65-ish. At that time, it embarrassed me and there was a question popped up in my mind. Can we read the poem according to what we think about that (re: how we interpreted it)? But now I understand why she gave me that score because we were in class, and certainly, there were scoring criteria and it was a heroic poem. Later on, I love to read antologi puisi from Jokpin, Sapardi, Malna, and random poets I found on the internet. They wrote freely, not the way Pelajaran Bahasa Indonesia told me back then in school, and I’ve found out that the way we read was according to what the poems were about in the first place. I think that memory has shaped my relationship with so-called poetry or poems. What matters is the message delivered.
Aku masih ada kesel-keselnya juga karena bacaku datar banget bjroot tapi lagi-lagi, ntu tulisan kan bukan puisi menggebu atau patriotis yang harus kubaca dengan teatrikal dan dramatis. Aku masih terus bisa belajar dan mungkin nanti akan ketemu "style"-ku sendiri. Tahun lalu jadi penonton tahun ini jadi yang maju pun sudah termasuk baby step sih WKAKKAKAKA akhirnya nekat. Ya inilah ketidaksabaranku dalam proses merekah itu. Padahal, aku nggak harus merekah hari ini. Kayaknya ini berlaku sama semua hal yang lagi aku pelajari. Masih ada besok atau besoknya lagi atau besok besok besoknya lagi. Mari belajar menerima kalau kita gak sempurna.
Keep doing that silly poetry-reading, menulis puisi jelek, took an imperfect moon photo, memasak meskipun kadang keasinan dan kenyang duluan. Cherish your first time on everything even if it’s small. Cherish your growth.
[Final draft on 02/01/2025]
Note: per hari ini dah sidang skripsi (blom revisi n submit jurnal)😀
10:28 pm
Sincerely, F.
