Just as rushing water carves away at the stone embankments of a canyon, so do our lived experiences at the limits we place on the city. When I first moved to Edmonton my knowledge of the city was disjointed. I knew of a few malls, and maybe even a park or two here and there, but there was nothing to link these various budding-places together in my mind. However, as time progressed I began to venture further and further out, pushing my personal city limits continually outward.
I have new perceptions of the Edmonton now that I have lived here for roughly 4 years. The limits that surrounded me previously still exist, but now they're more akin to hurdles, able to by leaped over when the situation calls for it. These limits are now smaller in height, but the rate of outward expansion has slowed down. I believe this is partly due to the size of my previous habitat: an oil/forestry town called Whitecourt, which is just 2 hours north-west of Edmonton. It seems that I have taken the boundaries of my old habitat and transposed them onto Edmonton in an attempt to replicate a town-like experience. I'm still trying to decide if this is a favourable undertaking.
Looking inside my limits I can see that my area of habitation has completed its transformation into place, however, it has stalled on the path to its more intimate form: the local. And honestly, I blame myself. If the city is a text, as de Certeau would have us believe, then as a citizen of this city I must assume my role as a character in its ongoing story; I need to embrace a state of becoming-local (Sorry, I blame 302 (Note: I may butcher Deleuze, but I will have fun doing it!)); I need to enter into the community and experiment with it, instead of merely dismissing it without inspection. I'm hoping that my CSL placement with the Alberta Public Interest Research Group (APIRG) will give me this opportunity.
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