A few years ago when I still lived on the farm (pretty close to a farm anyways), I spent many hours driving around the countryside looking for abandoned houses, mines, warehouses, factories; basically any structures left to nature. On the periphery of the suburbs these were a dime-a-dozen.

For whatever reasons (I’m guessing economic), people just picked up and left their residences, sometimes leaving everything behind. I mean, most of the time the houses were empty and dilapidated; still fun if you’re into testing your skills in dangerous environments (the mines were especially enjoyable), but other than photos, not much to walk away with. But there were prized finds too, locations with dusty books, old photos, antiques, coins – I have more than a few items in my collection from those times.

The way I looked at it was like this: if I didn’t save those items, they’d now be destroyed by the elements, mildew, or asshole-initiated fires. And because these structures were located on the edges of the burbs, they were more often than not slated for demolition anyway, so whatever was inside would’ve ended up in landfill (at best). Even designated historical properties were often left to complete ruin while new subdivisions sprung up around them – sometimes coming within a foot of the old structures, and sometimes even damaging them. In a very real way I considered my incursions a way to preserve history.

The same philosophy is behind the movement known as Urban Exploration, or UrbEx, which got its start in Toronto (at least in terms of being organized and public). As the name implies, exploration of this kind is usually reserved for urban environments like abandoned or boarded up buildings, unused subway stations, old factories, and even sewers. If it’s off-limits to the public, it’s fair game for UrbEx.

Technically, anyone involved in UrbEx is breaking the law – it’s still trespassing. Plus, some locations are incredibly dangerous (crumbling walls/floors, exposed electrical wiring, asbestos, etc.), so the pastime doesn’t always attract people with the best intentions or the most brain cells. But there do exist organizations and individuals who think the same way I do, who took the pains to explore properly, and it’s thanks to their efforts that we now have Doors Open Toronto.

This year, 150 buildings opened their doors to the public during the weekend event, giving almost unlimited access for people to explore typically off-limits areas.

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Nerdiness — with an “i” in the middle — is, in fact, not the right word. It implies a superficial or physical quality: taped glasses; gangly appendages; possible tendencies to be aroused by Klingon women.

Nerdness implies a more profound enlistment of less tangible, but more powerful, traits: the ability to hypnotically cause others to lose all sense of self and surroundings through a dark power called “work talk”;  the skill to instantly and deeply connect with anyone who thinks that the word “nybble” is funnier after learning what it means; the cojones to wax non-commital* in such a way that a deeply engaging chat can continue for upwards of thirty minutes.

The men and women that together comprise this second group are the people who could turn into super villains so easy, it’s best that we do everything we can to push them toward the good side. I am, of course, talking about Saturday morning library patrons, of which I am occasionally one.

So I speak from experience. I too have bathed in my own inner turmoil, distanced by those I had tried to help and left to question my place, if any, in society.

After travelling to Mars and building a giant, crystalline, clockwork palace of thought, I set upon contemplating whether or not humanity deserved my help; would they not simply work towards destroying themselves in increasingly ingenious new ways? Had I not been reminded by my foxy protege of  various great works of human artistic aspiration, I may have simply left this galaxy altogether.

The others, battling Eric Van Lustbader in the stacks and some horrid deformity of Dewey’s in the Hindi magazine section, too would lose faith unless…unless that which gave them to know in their hearts that humanity was still worth fighting for, was re-affirmed. That thing most upheld and uplifting, the beating heart of humanity’s purest hopes: beauty, love, truth, wonder — and art.

Art, above all others. The purest pursuit.

This, surely, must be the reason why the library had decided to widen the MAP program to all regular patrons. A blast of culture and learning to sweep over our fair city and its citizens, heroes, and villains alike. A vertiable explosion of truth and purity to expel the sicknesses of corruption and crime from our streets.

And by virtue of a clumsy four-paragraph segue, I am now free to mention completely out of context that the library carries comics and graphic novels as well. You know that MAUS one? Yeah, even that one; assuming whoever’s had it out for six months returns it.

If you’re cheap and sans BitTorrent, DVDs and CDs are available too, but the selection should not be described as dazzling. Keep hopes and expectations at low to low-medium for best results.  Besides, library loaners are a poor substitute for stuff you would otherwise have to pay for. Only trick is, ticket numbers are limited weekly.

Get yours tomorrow (or later)!

* The ability to carry on a conversation without actually saying anything about anything or, to put it another way, avoiding commitment to any possible viewpoint whatsoever (i.e. “Certainly a lot of weather we’re experiencing today” or “What a season the team’s having, huh?”