I suppose I am supposed to say something about the six month anniversary of the break up.
So here it is:
It feels unreal. I feel like I'm totally losing my connection to the MCRmy, because everybody fights or are posers or decide to recede from us because they can't deal with it. The sixth month anniversary is absolute shit.
In reality, it shouldn't actually matter because, as Gerard said, this band ISN'T a band at all, it is an idea. It stands for unity of the outcasts, it stands for the rebellious side of all of us, it is the philosophy that we can embrace fear and use it to our advantage.
It is not over just because the guys decided to go separate ways.
As long as the Killjoys keep the faith, then there is nothing anybody can do to stop us.
But you guys are failing. You guys aren't showing the support the guys would expect from you.
Some of you are perfect, and I love you for being the supportive Killjoys I look for in the MCRmy.
But a lot of you need to get your grip and keep living. You need to help the soldiers that have fallen and give them back their mask and ray gun.
If you can't do that, then I don't understand why you don't just submit to the rest of society. Take your meds, conform to their rotten ideas, and stop singing it out for the rest of the MCRmy.
Just stop.
If you can't be the soldiers the rest of us need, then stop marching and go back to the conformists.
We don't need you.

That is my opinion of the sixth month anniversary. Take it or leave it.

This day, twelve years ago, Gerard Way decided to turn his life around. 
He was trying to get into the works of a cartoonist, had just given a pitch to cartoon network.
On the train ride home, he saw the World Trade Center up in flames.
He say bodies falling. 
Bodies on fire.
From that point on, he decided he wanted to make a change in the world.

Twelve years later, he has saved and changed so many lives for the better.
Gerard Way is a hero. He is an inspiration.
Without him, I wouldn't be who I am today.

So, I started crying over My Chemical Romance again tonight... Which kind of stung my awesom sunburned face, but whatever.

It isn't fair that I never got to see them live. I never got to see Gerard sing or Mikey play bass.

My heroes disbanded their group and now there are no more songs.

I have listened to each one a million times. I have memorized them. I know their inspirational stories.

There will be no more of that.

People say,"Well, you still have their old songs."

Ya? Really? Half of them I only listen to when I am sad, because that is what I need them for. Or when I'm lonely. Or when I feel fat. Or when I feel like cutting. But what if those songs start to lose their feeling from overuse? What happens then?

And how is it possible that, even though these are just random guys that I have never actually met before, they are some of the most important people to me. Ican honestly say that I love them.

I don't want to just be a fangirl, but I know that is what I am.

Maybe even something more diminutive than that? Less important?

Whatever. I miss My Chemical Romance. They saved my life. I suck. 

Life happens.

Music

It's inspiring.
It helps nearly everyone.
I can't get enough.
It's addicting.
I love it.
Music plays through my head making me a happier person.

Thank you so much, music makers of the world.
:)

Heroes

My Heroes <3
They've done so much for me, and they don't even know it.

Dead.

It's times such as these that I would rather be dead than face the world.

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.


I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.

I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-

I made coffee.

As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.

As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn't take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.

Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey's footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey's direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack!

I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit's, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.

We cheered.

I was no longer sad.

I didn't realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.


It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.

I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.


The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.

So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.

Love.

This was always my intent.


My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013


We were spectacular.

Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.

There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-

And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-


Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.


Fatalism.


That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this "flaw" within weeks of its inception.

Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it's system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that's the point.

No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.


To me that's rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.


I wasn't shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It's in the lyrics, it's in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).

I'm still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn't a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-


When it's time, we stop.


It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.


You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.






Now-

There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one's fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.


There wasn't even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets...


I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.

We get the cue to hit the stage.


The show is... good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.

I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I'm hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.


All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn't have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.


What it said is between me and the voice.


I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.


Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.


There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-


That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?


With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one's terms but our own- the door closes.


And another opens-


This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed "hippie" but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.

A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.


He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-


"This amp talks." he said.

I smiled.

We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.


When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent's basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90's Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.


I still have that guitar, and it's sitting next to The Princeton.

He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.


In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you've learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.

I feel Love.


I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-


Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.


Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-


My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.

It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.

I always knew that, and I think you did too.


Because it is not a band-

it is an idea.


Love,

Gerard

This is what Gerard Way had to say about the break up.

As anybody could imagine, I am absolutely torn up about this, but I will move on... Eventually.

MCR helped me so much. Through cutting, through relationships, though sheer loneliness.

They stood for everything i coul've ever wanted.

They were originial, unique, and they beleived that anybody could change for the better.

Gerard Way started the band, hoping to make a change in this world.

"I literally said to myself, 'Fuck art. I’ve gotta get out of the basement. I’ve gotta see the world. I’ve gotta make a difference.'"

These four men, Frank Iero, Ray Toro, Mikey Way, and Gerard Way, are such an inspiration to people these days. Namely, teenagers, outcasts, and just plain fuck-ups. They weren't always perfect, still aren't, yet they are still here, ready to cheer on anybody in need.

They brought us their Bullets.
They dished out Revenge.
The marched in the Parade.
And they survived the Danger Days.

They will survive.

Long live My Chemical Romance. <3

“My life was awful. When I was a kid, I was fat, pretty ugly and had awful hair. I used to get teased every flipping day. Slammed up against lockers, punched in the face - you name it. Hell, I had to go to prom with one of my female friends because I couldn't even get a proper date. I cant even look back at those photos because I look so bad.

I transferred schools, but the teasing just got worse. After a, lets say, “incident” I had with the school play, the bullying just got worse. But I made it through high school, only to find out that real life was pretty much the same. I just stayed in my dark room all day. I didn't talk to anyone, I didn't go outside. I just stayed inside and drew. I’d draw vampires, mummies, heroes, villains Anything to help me escape all the bad in the world.

I went to art school and didn't really belong. All I could draw was comic book characters. I tried to put my only good talent to use, by drawing a cartoon and pitching it - only to have it turned down. Life to me was just pointless. I started drinking, doing drugs and just generally wasting my life drawing.

Then one day, I saw bodies falling from the sky. I witnessed people dying. And that’s when I decided to turn my life around. I called up anyone I knew who had an instrument and we formed a band. Being on tour for the first few years was bad. All we’d do is get drunk and do drugs, but I loved it. Because I was doing something I loved with people I loved.

And a few years ago I met the most perfect woman ever. It’s like we share a wave link or something. She just knows me, without even knowing me if you understand. And now, 2011. I have a beautiful baby girl, a caring wife and I get to perform for all my adoring fans every day.

I am living proof that no matter how bad life gets, it gets better. I am Gerard Way, and I survived.”

~Gerard Way



This has got to be one of the best quotes out there....


I have to say that I've been feeling a bit better lately.... I don't know if it is some random shift in the atmosphere, or if my so-called depression is going away... Every once in a while in the past week, I've felt like cutting, but it isn't as bad as it was before... So maybe it is getting better......?

Just a Few Gerard Way Quotes :)

My Chemical Romance

For the past while, this band is what I have sort of held onto for dear life. The members are so talented and passionate about what they do, and the lyrics of their music are almost heart-wrenching.... I'm gonna post some quotes.


"If for one minute you think you're better than a sixteen year old girl in a Green Day t-shirt, you are sorely mistaken. Remember the first time you went to a show and saw your favorite band. You wore their shirt, and sang every word. You didn't know anything about scene politics, haircuts, or what was cool. All you knew was that this music made you feel different from anyone you shared a locker with. Someone finally understood you. This is what music is about."
— Gerard Way


"Homophobia is gay."
— Frank Iero


"These are dangerous days we live in and you, the artists, are our last defense."
— Frank Iero

Art is the Weapon.

Imagination is the Ammunition

Stay Dirty and Stay Dangerous

Create and Destroy as You See Fit

First actual post.... This guy? The guy in the pictures? Ya, that's Frank Iero, in case you were wondering. He is a guitarist for My Chemical Romance. I do believe he is slowly going to become my next "thing". You see, I obsess very easily, and for the past couple of months, I've been stuck on Gerard Way (Vocalist for My Chemical Romance). I do believe it is time for me to move on...  Maybe.