Two things are clear. First, I must write. The fact that I must write is a product of nature and nurture. The urge was born inside me. It must have been passed down through chromosomes and DNA because the urge is no less deniable than the slant of my eyes or the swish in my hip. What was born inside me has been nurtured by others: the English teacher who first told me I had a talent for writing, by my parents who attend every reading they can.
Even when I resist the urge, when I leave it in a corner and place a cone on its head; it reacts like a child who won’t go quiet. It first pulls my shirt. Then it threatens to go blue by holding its breath. If for whatever reason I still haven’t gotten the message, if I think I’m too depressed, if I’ve thrown myself into mini-age of gluttony and irresponsibility; it gets on the floor in the middle of Target and screams, “it ain’t ever gonna be better til you do this!”
Writing anything, even if it will only ever appear on my laptop screen or in my embroidered journal, quiets the demons that nag me about my purpose and emboldens the voice that calls me to make a proud fool of myself by daring to pursue what I love and loves me back.
Second, I must share. Part of this is egomania. I want to get up and be heard. I was that annoying kid in English class that wanted to read out loud. I am that disappointed child who wanted to be in musicals but was born completely tone deaf. But the reason to share goes beyond a need for attention. When you learn, you teach. Everyone has a something to share—something to say or do that makes someone, some people or everyone’s world a little better, a little worse or a little more understood. Good or bad, bad and good…it is everyone’s duty to interact, engage and hopefully enliven.
Archy Jamjun is a writer and performer based in Chicago. He is the editor of this blog and has performed at Solo Homo 8 & 9, Essay Fiesta, and The Chicago Lit Fest. You can read more of his work at http://www.concubine13.blogspot.com/.
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