Before I get into what I want to talk about, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Chris Thach. I am, as of the 2015-2016 school year, a sophomore here at Saint Xavier University. I am an Art Secondary Education major and a resident student. My hobbies include: writing stories, playing video games, drawing and painting, fishkeeping, gardening, and remembering. I’ll get into detail on that last one in a little bit. Throughout my time on this blog, I will share my thoughts on topics that I would find relevant to students and young people and introspection onto aspects of my own life that others may find meaningful as well as various events and current news on things pertaining to the university, the world and myself. Now onto my first introspection on this blog.
I’d like to think I have it all planned out, at least when it comes to the outcome of my time here. Sometimes, I wish I would never leave and have my friends and I just chatting away in the diner until the end of time. But I know that cannot happen. Time never stops for anyone. In my limited time here, I expect a few things of myself and of the school. I have expectations to complete my education here and receive my teaching licensure and begin teaching art at the high school level or work somewhere in my field, the fine arts. However, life takes twists and turns and it would be naive of me to think everything will go as I wish it. My parents are old, as old as some of your grandparents. In fact it is safe to say that I was literally born in the wrong generation. They may be gone tomorrow or next week; I don’t know and that reality is taxing on a person. Time is an elusive fox that continues to evade me. It cannot be helped. But, what I can do is give myself a wide berth in case life throws a maelstrom against me. It’s not a matter of if they’ll occur but what can I do in response. What that entails is engraved into me from memories and whispers of a dead song that only I remember.
Memories are a hard thing to analyze. Was what I was remembering actually what happened? Or was it just me ciphering the least damaging bits? I don’t open up to people. I do, but like everyone else, you don’t tell everyone what you’re thinking. I simply laugh and tell him he’s being a, well you know, and needs to stop worrying. But the truth is there are things I just won’t talk about, even with family. There are moments in our lives that we take to our graves or, at least, do not discuss with people we will actually have to meet at least semi-frequently. It’s not a matter of trust or love but rather a protection. Humans have engrained in our brains a self-preservation mindset, the flight or fight instinct. For myself, my memories and thoughts that I refuse to share with familiars are not something overtly dangerous like situations of bodily harm or even mental trauma, in fact, they are universally pretty pleasant. Tiny moments of picking up a worm that wondered onto the washed out sidewalk and tossing him back into the grass or drinking that artificial cherry drink while father takes a leak at the edge of the biking trail. Those tiny moments, islands of timeless stability in the raging tempest of time are what I keep to myself. I do it because they are mine. They are lyrics to a dead song that only I remember. The genes we inherited were from our parents, our chances of illness are inherent. And those memories are ours alone. Our memories, how few and blank they may be are ours. So there no wonder we all keep a few to ourselves. That is why I like sitting alone and just remembering. We don’t have much and so the world keeps on spitting out lyrics for us to grab but be careful not to let go of your old ones because they were yours.
— Chris Thach