Creepy? Sure. Illegal? Nah. All it did was do the hard work of gathering that information for you. There has been plenty of debate on whether or not what the app does is ethical or moral. A lot of people cried foul at the developers of the app.

Then there’s a great article by one of the girl’s who was randomly pictured in a screen shot of the app on one of the write-ups. Go read it, I’ll wait. It’s basically what nudged me to write this little post.

Because along with all the outcry against what seems so creepy, there has been plenty of people saying “You put that information out there, ladies. You checked in, you posted your picture. So you must be okay with people stalking you and hitting on you.”

In that article you just read, Marie ends with this winning conclusion:

I don’t believe that having a public persona online needs to be a risky enterprise, and it seems like plenty of people are able to manage that without being attacked, stalked, or otherwise targeted. If we’re saying that’s only true for one half of the population, then I don’t think this is really a conversation about internet privacy as much as it’s a conversation about whether it’s safe to be a woman and live in public.

If the answer to that is “no”, then I think we’ve got bigger problems than ‘Girls Around Me.’

And that’s exactly the issue here. A big conclusion of this thing has been that it’s risky to be a woman and live publicly. And that should never be true. There’s an issue at the root of this that is much, much bigger than an app for a smartphone.  Culturally, we have some problems to address. Some deep problems about how we respect and act around each other. Privacy isn’t the issue, the issue is humanity not being able to treat well those who choose not to be private.

I know I’m rambling and am not really making a point. I’m sorry, I usually try to be a bit more focused when I write. Honestly though, I’m not really sure how to start this conversation or what to do to help. I just don’t think the right of life is shutting up women in a house with no windows or internet for their own safety is a good option. I’m also confused because there is a weird balance between chivalrous protection and pandering over-protection. Not that I know where that balance is…

I guess the point of writing all of this is I just needed to say something, and add my little voice in support of Marie’s ending point, and to hopefully spark some thought and conversation with you.

Each one with their own story.

But this is the bus. You walk on, pay, and then either put in your Apple white earbuds, pull out a book, look at your phone, or look asleep. Those who do none of those simply look bored and disconnected. This is the bus, you don’t connect with the other humans on it.

Maybe it’s because simply riding the bus doesn’t give you enough in common to breach the Talking to Strangers barrier. But I’m pretty sure as I watch all of these people board and disembark that they all have interesting stories if only you’d ask.

—–

There’s this older couple that’s on the same bus every morning. She seems to have a slight mental disorder. She asks questions with the speech impediment of a child, and also their unquenchable persistence. While his face is tired, his arm is constantly around her as he patiently answers her repeated questions. Now and again there is a quick kiss.

To preempt the question that everyone asks, I’m going to Fargo because I was asked to work with the video crew (I assume as a cameraman) for the last week of shows from Impact World Tour, the group I’ve worked with overseas in the past. No biggie, I can scoot over a few states for 5 days to do live video shooting for some performance shows.

Well, this morning that’s changed.

I was told by my technical director today that he won’t be able to join the team for the shows. I’d expected him to direct the video crew. In addition, there have been changes with the gear and team we’ll be using. So now it looks like I may be directing the video myself. I’ve done this twice before: once for something like 12,000 people on my first tour in New Zealand (yeah, that was stressful) and again for a show or two last summer in the Philippines (the first show was with non-native English speakers on camera). So while I’m relatively inexperienced, this should be pretty easy by comparison. But I may not be directing, because depending on the team we round up, I may be required to be the technical producer during the show itself. I did this for a couple small shows in the Philippines as well. It’s a bit more weight, but really, while it sounds big, and will definitely be fun, it’s a bit easier. I need to make sure the camera team knows what to expect and help the director during the show. Sound should be a cakewalk and the lighting tech is phenomenal and worked these shows for years.

My tech team director just wanted me to be ready to make whatever we end up with work and pull off the show. I’m game!

Earlier this month I was reading posts from Jeffery Zeldman of his perspective during and after 9/11/2001. He lives in New York and it was fascinating to read first-hand recent history accounts of the event. I also read an article that referenced other news pieces about what was happening in the week or two leading up to the attack. As vaporous as online content is, I know using a blog to record thoughts and events is hopeful at best, but considering it is my profession to work on the web and I own my own domain and website, it gives me a much greater hold over my content.

I’ve been told a few times that I’m a good writer, a fact which even helped me secure a web design job once. So I’m thinking of writing more, perhaps less deep so that I can do it more frequently. But so often I feel like sharing my thoughts on different topics or news items, and getting into this habit will help me.

Topics like how the web is changing so much and won’t be the same again. I love the coding practices and community of designers these days, but man, I really miss the simplicity of working on the web from 10-15 years ago. But really, that’s a much larger topic for me and would be best in person, so consider that a teaser to entice you to seek me out face-to-face. You can take me to coffee and we can talk about social psychology, Orwellian states, and being human. Yes, all of that from that above linked article on the end of the web as we know it.

With that intro to why I’d like to be writing a bit more, here we go.

In actuality, this whole rapture end-of-the-world business has been unsettling to me. Something is just wrong with the whole situation, and I’m not talking about the obvious. Sure, I’ve poked my fun, laughed at the jokes, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. It isn’t just the situation either, there’s something wrong with us.

Last night, I told a friend that I had thought about throwing an End of the World party, or at least a See-Ya-Later-All-Us-Christians-Are-OUT party, but that as amusing as it would be, it just seems a little, well, blasphemous. I’m a Christian, I believe Jesus. I suck at following his example, but I still believe in it. Which means I also believe that there’s more to life than this mortal coil. I don’t know how this so-called rapture will happen, or what the prophesied return of Jesus will look like, but I think it’s wrong to so blatantly scoff at the idea of it. I went to a birthday party instead.

As a Christian, I’m supposed to be looking forward to the return of Christ. I know 99.99+% of Christians believe literally in the Bible verses that say we don’t know when it will happen and it will be surprising. But I haven’t heard any Christians talk lately about how excited they are for that to happen. Instead, it’s laughter and derision. Sure, that’s because some guy who apparently knows the Bible better than anyone ever is predicting dates and hours. But I find in myself not a desire that he be wrong because it would show him to be a loony bin , but frankly, because I don’t feel ready for it. Remember that verse about the sheep and the goats? (Matt 25:31-46) Or Matthew 7:21-23:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only one who does the will of my Father in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.”

Let’s be honest, verses like those are a little scary. Do I think I’m a horrible human being? No. Am I knowingly trying to use and abuse the name of Jesus for my own gain? No. Do I sometimes disconnect from the real meaning while I’m working audio / visual for an evangelistic performance tour? Yeah, it happens. Have I walked by the hungry, the needy, the thirsty, the sick, and ignored them while hoping they don’t look at me? A lot.

Selfishly and with earth-bound thinking there is still stuff I want to do. Places I want to see, things I want to accomplish. In that sense, I don’t feel ready. But in another sense, I feel like I’m failing my savior and my soul by skipping like a goat past the homeless guys under the bridge by my office. At best, it would be downright embarrassing if Jesus came back right now.

I could be, but I doubt I am, alone in this.

Which leads me to think: We’re doing it wrong.

But you know who is excited about the rapture? Who really cannot wait for it to happen? Atheists. And pretty much the rest of the world. Atheists are stoked for the rapture! They’re planning post-rapture parties and getting ready to loot the left over stuff. I’m pretty sure as much as they don’t believe in a god, they really want this one part to be true.

Because then we’d all be gone.

Wait, what? All the Christians are gone and the rest of the world throws a party?

We’re doing it wrong.

If we’re too busy making sure our pets are taken care of to the point that we are ignoring people, something needs to change.

Actually, as silly as it sounds, in a weird illogical logical way, that isn’t a horrible idea. If the rapture is going to look like the Left Behind series, wouldn’t a good pet owner make sure their animals weren’t left out in the cold to die when Jesus takes the owners home? But wouldn’t a good Christian care more about making sure their neighbors (in the broad Jesus sense of the word) were cared for, or better yet, came along with them instead?

This is the crux of the whole issue: the response that the “non-believing” portion of the world is having right now is shining a light on the fact that Christians as a population are viewed as crack-pots, not a loving and serving people that the rest of the world would miss. Think of it this way: when you move away, do you want to be missed and remembered by people? When you die, do you want people at your funeral because they will miss having you around? Apparently, when Christians leave, they won’t be missed. Yeah, there will be a goodbye party, but it’s not the kind you want.

Christians don’t love and care for people and the world enough that they will still want us around. The rapture? Good riddance.

Ouch.

I’ve had at least three people seriously ask me when I’m moving here (not to mention many half-joking questions) and four serious offers for visas to help with residency. Also, the immigration officer I spoke with suggested, off the record, that I find myself a nice girl. I met with this officer because the customs officer who stamped my passport upon arrival noted my many other NZ visas and asked when I was moving permanently.

Yeah, the officials are in on it now too. Maybe I should listen to that.

Lastly, while hitchhiking back to Christchurch, the 11 or 12 year-old son of the lady giving me a ride asked me when I was going to move here.

Out of the mouth of slightly-older-than-babies babes?

Even if my friend hadn’t received my note with flight details (he hadn’t) to come pick me up I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t coming into a foreign city that I didn’t know. I’ve become very nonchalant about my travel, but am even more so here in a way. Not apathetically, but comfortably. I know what road from the airport to take to get into town, how to avoid the central business district and what alternate routes to use to get to my friend’s house.

I call New Zealand home. It’s part tongue-in-cheek and part how I really feel about it. That doesn’t mean that Oregon isn’t home to me also, but just to explain how comfortable I feel here, even when I find more and more cultural differences the longer I stay. The first time I came here, a wet-behind-the-ears traveler a mere 18 years old, I felt oddly at peace, welcome, and, well, home when I stepped off the plane. For someone who’d never been away from home or family for more than a week or two, that was significant and memorable.

Why am I reiterating all of this? It’s nothing I haven’t expressed before: friends expect me to stay each trip – even my banker thought it wise to add a few extra weeks to my accounts’ travel notice and the immigration officer asked me when I was moving permanently.

Maybe it’s to emphasize what I felt the first few days walking and driving around Christchurch. I was glued to the #eqnz Twitter stream and online media news sources the week of the February earthquake. I saw all the footage and photos. I read all the stories. I knew more about the city’s situation and plans than my local friend when I arrived. But I hadn’t seen it all myself. It feels a bit surreal.

When I bussed from the airport to the mall where my friend was to pick me up, I went right through my old neighborhood. Aside from a boost in traffic, it was fine. Maybe one roof with a removed chimney. Then we drove across town, around the CBD and to the east side. Buildings missing facades, second story rooms exposed where roofs and walls had fallen away, potholes and protrusions all along the roads where liquefaction had sucked down or pushed up the pavement. Previously familiar areas unrecognizable through the damage. You think you know a place and discover that you may no longer. It feels a bit surreal.

The next day I spent the morning walking along the east side of the cordoned off downtown. Initially the entire central portion of the city was closed. Roughly 100 blocks by my estimate. A month later there is much more open and many inroads pushing towards the interior red zone. As I walked along cracked pavement and gaping earth, looking at destroyed businesses and leaning houses next door to seemingly intact buildings, I noticed that everyone who could was going about their day. Yes, it’s been a month, but this is how it’s been since the initial shock (and aftershocks) wore off: life goes on.

I had the opportunity to meet with a handful of businessmen who had previously worked in the CBD. While they expressed frustration at not being able to access their buildings, even if they were okay, the biggest topic was how they were managing to continue running their businesses and how different companies were coping. Listening to people talk at a local pub’s trivia night you wouldn’t hear anything about the quake. Church groups still meet, though possibly (like my old church) in a different building. My friend and I were talking, he said that life is still moving on for most people, things just take a bit longer. Water needs to be boiled before drinking. Driving somewhere may require slower speeds and alternate routes.

For all of that, there is still a tension, a disturbance, under the surface. The second and third nights I was woken by aftershocks. In the nine days I’ve been here I’ve noticed five aftershocks, a couple of them strong enough of long enough to be a little disturbing, though not dangerous. Compound that number by months and that will start to cause strain. And of course there is everything else, it’s foolish to play like there are no residual effects. There are lives lost, property damaged, jobs gone, landscape changed. Schools are still only partially open. Christchurch won’t be a “normal” city for several years, if it ever really is again. The natural need to continue life will cause a shift in where hot spots are in the city for recreation. That makes it weird to see a place I have contemplated living long term be in such a state.

* * * * *

I’m having a hard time knowing how to end this post. I didn’t have much of a point when I started writing outside of explaining how odd it is to come to a familiar place that is striving to rebuild and return to normalcy.  Perhaps this is a DIY. Draw your own point, lesson, conclusion. For me, understanding what New Zealand is to me is an ongoing process – it’s just that it got a little more complicated.

Pre-ticket purchase – “That would be so cool!”

Ticket purchase – “WOOO!!! I’M GOING!!!”
This ebbs and flows slightly depending on how much I’m thinking and being reminded of the trip, but generally stays pretty high. For a few months, life goes on, but the anticipation stays high.

Two to one weeks out – “Oh man! I’m so excited, it’s coming up!”

One week to two days out – “Shoot! So much to do! Stressssssed!”

The day before – Stress + “Wait, I’m really going to miss you all! And I wanted to do that thing that’s happening while I’m gone. Sad.”

The night before – Poor sleep.

The day of – Freak out I’m forgetting something.

On the plane – Siiiiggghhhhhh, I can finally relax.

Land – “YEEEEAHHHHH!!!!!”

(Currently at “The Day Before”)