How I met the city of Edmonton

                For this week’s posting I have decided to move away from the traditional blog prompt and discuss something more pertinent to me at this time.  The opportunity to think critically, conceptually and creatively about mapping urban spaces was something I have put a great deal of time and effort into.   To be honest, I must have gone over 20 different ideas about what to map as I wanted to be both unique and authoritative in my analysis.  This task, however, proved to be more difficult than I had initially anticipated.  On the one hand, I started to realize that the uniqueness of my project could not compromise my authority on the chosen space of analysis.  Naturally, this led to further complications as I began to realize that I have occupied limited space beyond the normative boundaries of my direct environment.  I needed a different approach.  Well, I began to think, what do I know about the city of Edmonton?

The answer was simple enough.

                Over the past four years, the essence of my social life (with exception to playing basketball) has been confined to a space between 104^th avenue and Whyte Avenue.  From work, to school, to friends and colleagues, my entire Edmonton experience has ostensibly been restricted to this small portion of the city.  So, why not write about what I know? 

                Each day, weather permitting, I take the same path to and from school.  Each weekend, weather permitting, I take the same path to and from Whyte Avenue.  This journey, moreover, has basically defined my experience with city space in Edmonton and, needless to say, it means a great deal to me.  Though I admit the uniqueness of my project was compromised, I nevertheless believe the authority and experience I have with this space cannot be overlooked.  Furthermore, I must admit that I relished the opportunity to document a journey that has been so much a part of my life and my university experience.  The fact that I will be able to take these pictures, descriptions and emotions with me is extraordinary, and, who knows, maybe someday I will be able to share my Edmonton experience with my children who are dying to know...

                                                                                                    ...what was it like living in Edmonton? 

Rediscovering Reading

                In many ways this course has been a culmination of what I was expecting to gain from my English degree and, needless to say, I have thoroughly enjoyed it thus far.  Minister Faust perhaps summed it up best for me when he said, “reading and literature should be fun; thus, if you’re not having fun you shouldn’t be doing it.”  It’s hard to admit, but reading—at least materials derived from an English syllabus—was losing its allure.  After four years of studying novels, poetry and short stories (among other various genres) I found myself withdrawn and stylistically overwhelmed.

                  It seemed to me that the course materials selected dealt more with the pomp and status of reading (Faust’s impersonations of scholastic elitism were priceless), than they did with literature’s true purpose—enjoyment.  Why read something that is dreadfully boring and historically disengaged?  To broaden one’s horizons?  To give perspective on places, histories and civilizations one would otherwise not have access to? Perhaps.

                And perhaps such a contention can be granted.  In my opinion, however, literature is more effectively utilized when one is actually enjoying what one is reading.  To do this, contextually relevant material is, at least for me; paramount.   I have always had difficulty accessing a story that was written centuries before my time.  Though I am a student of history, scholastic knowledge can never translate into personal experience or emotion.  The way I think, act and feel about the world around me relates much better to contemporary fiction than it does to historical relativity.   

                As mentioned above, this will most likely be the last English course I ever take—though I said the same thing last semester—as this is my final term at the University of Alberta.  I cannot stress enough how refreshing it is to be reading enjoyable stories once again, and having the opportunity to actually meet the authors who stand behind these great pieces of literature.  I feel reinvigorated and look forward to entering the “real world” with my new found respect for the power of literature.

A Journey to the "Underground"

                One of the main ideas that captivated me about Darrin Hagen’s The Edmonton Queen—the Final Voyage, was the notion of the “underground”—a world that exists independent of societies definitive norms.  Throughout the text, I was anticipating a strong connection with the localized space of Edmonton and, needless to say, I was more than surprised at my inability to associate with place in this “collective mythology.”  In this respect, Hagen’s text forced me to redefine the way in which I subconsciously analyze city space. 

                Being a citizen who, more or less, occupies normative spaces in Edmonton, I merely assumed (with an admitted arrogance) that every individual had access to the same social spaces I encountered.  This ignorance on my part certainly hinges upon an inherent reluctance to associate with several of the counter-cultural movements.  That is not to say, however, that I ever deemed any of these movements to be inconsequential, misguided or “dangerous”; rather, that I never fully understood the important personal, social and political outlets they provide for marginalized citizens. 

                Darrin’s story gave a voice to a community that had been silenced for decades.  My failure to connect with place, then, also stems from a failure to acutely listen to the voices of the oppressed.  In other words, the reason I have trouble with space in this text (beyond the obvious linear complications of time) has to deal with a failure to go beyond the normative space I occupy.