The best days of my life?

 My parents will tell you, with great embarrassing glee, that at the age of thirteen I told them I had the best day of my life when I got to meet Minnie Mouse in DisneyLand Paris.

It is often said that our school days are the best day of our lives. Now I don’t believe that. Not that I didn’t enjoy school. But life since has had its advantages. University was good fun and graduate life, despite being grown up and scary, has been a good.

It's a roundish birthday next week and the scary thing  is that I knew my Mum when she was this age. At this point I was 2 and she was pregnant with my Brother. My life and her’s have been different, I have a degree and she didn’t get her’s till later in life. But she was married and owned a house at 20, whereas I should have the latter at least this month.

I started my new job in September and my current phrase is “I love my job!” I’m not saying it’s easy, there are lots of people to get to know and learn the ropes (and knots) but this week at Scouts – of which I’m training to be an ASL (!) we had a chocolate fountain.

Last week I had truly one of the best days of my life. I was in Paris with the Cubs and Scouts, I exchanged on my house, we got a message saying some grant money had been agreed, we won the quiz at the centre after a camp fire with marsh mellows, songs and stories, and I got to meet Minnie Mouse!

Sometimes it’s the simple things that make good days!

Life is good, it’s not always easy and simple, but that doesn’t take away from the goodness in it.

So are these the best days of my life?

sound and silence

I’ve been to the panto this evening. A friend, well the Dad in the family that has kinda adopted me was Will Scarlet and his eldest son had a fab little role too. I haven’t been to the panto in a few years, me and Boyfriend went to see John Barrowman in the one in Cardiff one New Years Eve –probably 2009/2010. For our 50 month anniversary we decided on date afternoon to go see Les Mis at the cinema (well on our actual anniversary being Methodist Geeks we went to see the President of Conference then had burgers at Spoons). Anyway I bring up Les Mis as like the panto people sing rather than talk and tonight’s blog topic is music.

On a slight tangent if I was ever on Room 101 I would put songs with siren noises hidden in. These are the ones on the radio that you have to turn off when driving just to check it’s the music not a fire engine, ambulance or police car.

I think I listen to music a lot less than some people. Maybe that’s not right, what I mean is that I don’t intentionally listen to music as much as some people do. (Not that I compare myself to others often).

I don’t own an iPod, my mp3 player is rather old, and to be honest I don’t really like head phones. During the day when I’m driving I have Radio 1 on (so that's music!), and in the evening (after 7) I choose between Radio 2’s music (must be getting old) and Radio 4’s chats (turning in to my mother), or sometimes I have a specific cd in my car; the Disney blog came out of that time of driving and cd listening. When I’m at home I sometimes put the music on my laptop, but often I just sit in silence or relative silence anyway.

Something that music does is help us recall certain memories, I’m reminded of a fellow steward whenever I hear the Yfriday version of Strength will rise, I can no longer sing And Can it Be without thinking of Boyfriend or One more step without getting the giggles from old Exec days. For everyone Born will always be a MWiB / South Africa song. Some songs have negative memories though. The other day I was on a train that was packed between Huddersfield and Manchester and at Hudds two lads, one very drunk and one not quite so drunk got on and sat one next to and the other opposite me in a four seated bit – like the table seats but without a table. They were boasting the fact they had been kicked out of 4 out of 5 clubs in Huddersfield, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and were on their way to Liverpool, or maybe Manchester. After the first stop many in our carriage got off and I had the opportunity to move seats, but believing it would cause more agro stopped where I was and had an interesting 30-40 minutes being asked if I thought they were attractive, if I could tell they were wearing yesterdays clothes and the more drunk one singing over and over again “I want to scream and shout and let it all out” This song is now in my bad books for two reasons as when it came onto the radio the other day it took me back to that train ride, but it also has siren like noises in the background.

There is one type of music I seem to listen to a lot, and obviously this goes in peaks and troughs, is on hold music. It reminds me of my grandparents and Radio 3, it reminds me of placement in 1^st year when I spent ages calling a bowling alley and each 20 seconds of song were disrupted by an advert. I don’t know what the answer is to decent on hold music, but I’ve not heard it yet.

Yesterday’s issue with music was that of a facebook game. This particular one where you have to fry or grill different types of chicken had a rather annoying sound track background, however if you turned it off you also lost the sound effects, the bell as a customer came through the door, the click of the frying pan saying it was done and the ring of the phone for take away orders. So the choice was include the annoying music or lose the detail that made the game easier.

Now I’m not about to burst into song when mid speech but I do talk a lot, so it may come as a surprise to you that I’ve booked a mostly silent retreat. The idea is at meal times I can chat with the Nuns and others who are staying at the Monastery but the rest of the time is for me, my thoughts, my questions, some books and God. I’ll probably take paper to write on, pencils to sketch with, my camera (rather than my phone) all to help me find God

Like I’ve said I don’t intentionally seek out music often, right now all I can hear is the ticking clock and the sound of the keys on my keyboard as I type. But silence, that’s something else altogether. 

Identity, Coats and Disney

I started this blog on Saturday, but wasn't sure it was right and had a sermon I was meant to be writing. That evening I was talking to a friend about why it's easier to blog than to sermon, and I decided it's cos I can talk about me more, though my blogs often end up with God. To hear more of my sermon writing antics read Paul's Blog But here is my blog, I've added stuff from my sermon, and updated the times. Enjoy

I've been driving on rural roads again but don't worry that isn't the metaphor I'm using again... yet.

In my car I have a Disney CD playing at the moment - blame Brother for that! I have a feeling there will be a few blogs on things Disney teaches me - I already have one in my blog drafts folder but today I want to talk about identity.

First thing I've learnt is that Disney films aren't nice. The Hunchback of Notre-Dame starts (I think, not seen it in ages) with a 'Gypsy' killed for running away to save her baby, who isn't cute... when she is accused of stealing. The story is told in the song and it uses the line 'one is the monster and one the man’, and goes on to ask ‘who is the monster and who is the man?’ The adult who killed the mother and the child. The former gives the child the name Quasimodo which means half formed.

The next song on the CD is from Aladdin, where the Genie renames Aladdin as Prince Ali. I like how the songs often link one to the next.

I think names are really interesting. I'm a peaceful ewe. One of my favourite youth work sessions explores who we are and what defines us, sharing your name with someone doesn't really tell them anything... When I was in South Africa I was British Rachel, as we also had an Irish Rachel. Yeah, of all the 18-30s women in Methodism Britain and Ireland managed to pick two Rachel's!! On Twitter I'm Rachic11 which doesn't tell you much but then I get a whole 160 characters to explain who I am, and in that you get - girlfriend,daughter,sister,friend,methodist,youth worker,HKS4MWiB,f&w studier, Views are my own.

So, how often do we reinvent ourselves?
I was at a coffee morning on Saturday that I have been going to for over 4 years on and off - nowadays only when I get a free Saturday morning. I wonder how different I am now to the nervous 18 year old who turned up her first week in the city. There are two brilliant old men there, the banter between them is so funny and somehow I often get into trouble (all in jest) when they put words in my mouth. Wonder if they see a difference in me.

I've also bought a new phone this weekend. I've loved my current/old phone and had it since my 21st, but Friday night, going in to a famous Italian food based hut ,I dropped it and the answer call button no longer works! So I've had to get a new phone, its similar to my old one, but definitely an upgrade. How I spend my money is a big way I show who I am, and getting the best contract for my money means I have the capability to be there for people online and to listen on the phone, and money spare to give to charity.

The other way I change how I look is hair and glasses. Though I noticed the other day that I bought the same frames for sunglasses both in 2008 and 2010. As part of my sermon I talked about how our clothes are part of our identity. I have 3 coats, my youth work one that I use for detached work and when I'm camping and need to put something over my pjs when telling young people off at 3am. Its waterproof. Then there is my furry on the inside thick winter coat - looks good with wellies. And third is my pretty summer coat that I was given for one birthday. It's great for a dry night out - but not if it's wet as its dry clean only. The sermon went into what the people were doing by laying their coats on the ground, their security and warmth - as well as identity - sacrificing part of who they to exalt Jesus.

Going back to the 'monster or man' idea I've recently been to see the Muppets at the cinema and that has 'am I a man up a muppet.' Now ignoring the fact I'm a woman, how do I want to be seen? I often joke I'd be a great evil genius if my morals didn't get in the way. And boyfriend calls me a muppet often.

Does it really matter who I have been, the name I've been given, or even who I am going to be (though all are part of who I am) but surely it's about who I am today. How I use who I have been to guide who I am and can be, and what do I need to sacrifice to exalt Jesus.