Orientation

Orientation was an interesting experience. Hundreds of students driven like cattle into Lawlor Events Center. I hardly remember it, which is odd. I'm sure it was supposed to be a memorable experience.

What I do remember clearly was when all the College of Liberal Arts freshmen met in Nightingale Hall. Talking to us about what to expect, the grand and awesome things the Liberal Arts College does. Then they broke us up into groups, dismissing us by major to go to our respective orientation tracks. Art majors, music majors, etc. The room began to barely thin. And then, with a massive group left, they dismissed the psychology majors. I think that's when I first started to doubt my choice. The sheer number of students that stood up said to me that many of us hadn't thought our decision through fully.

Arrival

I got here with my life in boxes. I was with my family. So were hundreds of other college freshmen. The campus was new to me, the buildings grand in that way things you're just becoming acquainted with are. There was no Knowledge Center, Joe Crowley Student Union, Davidson Math And Science Center. Getchell Library was still open and the Jot Travis building had the words "Student Union" written on the side. Bush was still deep in office, and I was a psychology major coming to college with my then girlfriend of two years.

Nye Hall is 8 stories tall. The bathrooms had no windows at the time. I lived on floor 8 west. Room 857. (Or at least I think that was my room. I know I lived in 357 the next year, so perhaps I've forgotten which room was mine.)

Check in was a foreign experience. I was being entrusted with my first home away from home. I and my parents moved my things into my room. It was empty. I had papers on my desk. I had boxes of belongings.

When my parents left I was alone in my room. No words can really describe that feeling. That freedom, that fear. I guess that moment informs the rest of my stay. It really explains why I sought out the Young Democrats and The Nevada Sagebrush.

It was white. It was quiet. I wanted to cry. It didn't seem real.

Introduction

This blog is a highly personal project examining, through various forms of media, my stay here at the University of Nevada. Commit to Memory refers to the act of learning that I have been participating in for four years. It also refers to the act of committing these experiences I've had into my memory. This blog will serve as a tool to aide me in the process of walking through my own shoes, prying open the chasms of memory to make associations as one would a book. I'll look for change, foreshadowing and whatever else I find.

It will be chronological insofar as I decide it should be.

Note on public nature:
I let the public in so as they may be able to comment on the aspects they feel they are a part of. So please, comment. You were and are a part of my experience. If you feel the need, please give your input. I really value your thoughts on this, perhaps you'll see something I don't.