Today I spent a little time in Vancouver for the first time since late November. I had to pick up my daughters from the Airport. I parked our hideous pickup at Scott Road Station and took the SkyTrain downtown, aiming to find my way to YVR.
This was easy to do because I like walking.
And when you really like something, it's hard to see why people think it's so weird. My students in Hope laughed at me when I'd walk the five blocks to downtown Hope for groceries; my fellow teachers raised an eyebrow when I told them that I regularly walked five kilometers from my home to the Mall of Arabia in 6 October City; when I told party-goers last weekend that I walked an hour and 10 minutes to the party, they looked at me like I must be hiding something. But I'm not. I enjoy my walking time. I really do.
But back to my story. I made it downtown and meandered a little.
And I got back on the SkyTrain to YVR. When I met my daughters and mother-in-law at Arrivals, they wanted to go get some food with some other in-law members of the family. They chose the Cactus Club in Richmond. They didn't have room in their car, so they offered to send someone else to come out and pick me up. And I said "No." I wanted to ride the SkyTrain and walk.
And by the time I was finished my SkyTrain ride to Richmond, which only took 20 minutes or so, I'd written this rant:
I'm the #WalkingSnob. Unless #WalkSnob is better. How would I know?
I don't know how to hashtag.
As I start to compile my 30-second Twitter rants into YouTube videos in order to make them easier to embed, I've started a playlist.
I don't intend on making the videos pretty in any way, but it's certainly nice to be able to embed them as a single video instead of a series of different videos.
Yesterday, while I took Rosita for a walk, I saw a sign through a church window that grabbed my attention. And it prompted the following rant.
My first date was watching The Little Mermaid in a basement rec room. I think. I dunno. I don't remember, really. It was a long time ago.
But I was thinking about how "flipping your fins you don't get too far," and I just realized how little sense that makes.
Last night, while I walked the dog, a guy pulled over near me, rolled down his window, and told me "Jesus Loves You." I didn't feel like engaging in the conversation at all—I was far more interested in continuing walking the dog—but it did cause a few reflections about my years as an evangelical. Here are some of the things I was thinking, as I posted them to Twitter.
30 second snippets are not the best way to get an idea across, but I don't feel that my reflections are YouTube-worthy at the moment.
Here are a couple other related reflections:
The further I get from Christianity, the more ridiculous and offensive the message becomes. I once thought I'd continue to be interested in Christian thought, but it grows more banal by the day.
And I'm thankful for the distance.
The Internet Archive
YouTube: ephemeral ideas