Harvest time

Well, first post, not the last, although Nov.11 is approaching. I think this will be a good space to vomit my thoughts into the interworld. Anyway, I think the template looks somewhat classy, all in keeping with the folklorefehr aesthetic. I wondered about the name, but it's been my e-mail handle for a few years now, so why not. After all, I'll likely post some of my rumblings, likely just for my purposes as I work through my PhD... which this is intended to be a record of (my 5 year descend into insanity for anyone who is interested to see). Anyway, I think I need another coffee to get the night cobwebs out, and get the synapses greased.

(goes to get a coffee)

So, I've been commanded by the prof. of my colloquium to write a draft paper on my personal context of inquiry, or what draws me into my research. Being a field that is largely interdisciplinary and directed toward the social sciences, this can mean anything. This can be quite dangerous, and I treat it as such. For me, it can be dangerous because my fear is that the research will become all about me, which it should never be. But, at the same time, you direct your research toward your interests. So I guess I have to find a humbled way of approaching this by taking myself out of the bigger picture of what it is I want to study.

I think a good way to approach it is to research what I am interested, the dissolution of my hometown and the surrounding region (the social, economic and environmental) in the context of the long struggle of resistance throughout Anishinaabe country (namely Bkejwanong Territory - Walpole Island First Nation, next door to my hometown, Wallaceburg). I'm thinking this might actually take on the shape of an environmental and social history of the region... but first I'll need to have sanctioned approval and guidance from the great research community down there. This, along with my team at York University, and who knows. Could be promising.

Right now, however, all I can think of is this one image that is indelibly burnt into mind. When I was home this past summer staying at my grandparents (much of the rest of my family has moved off to find work) I did a fair bit of wondering, visited some friends, visited the cemetary to see my good friend Dave who died in summer '05, and just bascially drove around many empty streets. So, I came to the section of town where the first settler supposedly set up a ship building business on the Sydenham River, and low and behold the only businesses around happened to be a taxi stand, a senior's complex, an oddly situated bar, a mechanic and a strip joint. I guess there are businesses now that I think about it, but there are probably just as many empty storefronts as well, a number of which are boarded up with just the sun burnt letters where there signs were previously. Graffiti has been splashed on many of the wallas and storefronts, but its not the graffiti I've come to expect from unknown artistic masters, instead its from the same hand, with nothing more than a question to ask. What is most fascinating though is that even the question has come out distorted, a backwards "?" making it look eerily like a sickle. I think Mora, my colloguium prof will appreciate the inclusion of this image in my paper tomorrow...