#i also spoke to my childhood friend this morning for semi-related reasons

[bugswarm]

So when I was a kid, in like, 2006-2007, there was a game series called SingStar. It was a singing version of guitar hero basically. Anyways, my friend loved singing games and had gotten 2 of them. SingStar Rocks and SingStar Pop. I also really enjoyed them, so we played them all the time. But on the one game, SingStar Pop, there was an My Chemical Romance song, Helena. I was absolutely fascinated by the music video and loved the song and everything about it. (I was a really depressed kid and anything dark, morbid, etc was a fascination for me) So I of course, would beg to play that song all the time with her. But she didn’t like it. She thought it was weird and explicitly said “Boys aren’t supposed to wear makeup”. (Which, she also loved doing Fall Out Boy’s Dance, Dance and thats got Pete Wentz in eye liner, plus like, all the other reasons thats a fucked up statement but we were 10-11 so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) and made a rule that if we did that song, then we had to do one of the songs she liked that I hated. And I hated those more than my love of the weird funeral rock song that she would complain about every time we played it even if we were playing it in exchange for one I hated. So we almost never played Helena unless we did a random shuffle and it happened to pick it (which I celebrated every time but also regretted being happy about because I did it so infrequently that I couldn’t do well on the actual singing part of the game >.<).

For years, that was all I knew about mcr. They were “those boys who wore makeup that [childhood friend] said Im not supposed to like”. Then I got into high school and met this girl and we kissed after a party once, and I desperately needed her in my life more. And she said she was writing a fanfiction about a band and if I helped beta read it, then we would have something to talk about/more time to hang out. But I didn’t know the band at all. Turns out it was mcr. She wrote me a quick primer on each band member and the general traits I should know about them. I do not at all remember what she said beyond like, “Mikey plays Bass and is the brother of Gerard, who sings. Frank plays Guitar, Ray plays Guitar, and Bob used to play drums but doesn’t anymore” (this was post Bob leaving the band but before we all knew the extent of how bad he is). But anyways, I helped edit the fic and it took months and during the writing and editing process we ended up dating. Then 4 years later, we broke up, about 1 year after mcr broke up.

My ex is and isn’t important to this story because on the one hand, this is a story about how MCR has influenced my life over the years. But on the other hand, if it weren’t for My Chemical Romance, my ex and I would have never gotten together, or stayed together as long as we did. Our official first date was at an MCR concert. And those 4 years with them have some of the biggest impacts on my life to this day out of any other era of my life. A lot of who I am today can be directly attributed to things I experienced and learned through dating them. Hell I joined tumblr because of them, know about AO3 because of them, and learned…. So much about just. How actual real adult life works because of them.

But beyond my ex and I breaking up, MCR was still gone. They had broken up too. And I fell out of the fandom. Sure I still listened to the music and occasionally would talk about the band with other fans who I met, but it was bittersweet and painful.

Then in October 2019, I was at a halloween party hosted by my college. I was going through a bad relationship. And then news dropped that MCR had reunited. I could not pay attention to anything else. That was the most exciting thing that had happened in years. A month later, I was single. I had remembered that there were things more important in life and that I didn’t have to put up with the guy I was dating if I didn’t want to. So I didn’t. And my life got instantly better.

Then the pandemic hit. And shows were rescheduled. And the world put on hold. And then the blm protests happened. And my world got dark again. I dated another person who wasn’t good for me. (Nor I them). I restructured my life around what I thought I could settle for. And went on like that for over a year.

MCR did their European leg of their tour but I didn’t pay much attention. I never paid attention to tours I couldn’t attend since any other time in my life, the best we got was after the show we might get some nice photos or a grainy far away video, and it was rarely worth it. Plus with covid still happening, I kept expecting shows to be cancelled or rescheduled.

And then MCR got to the US leg of the tour. And at first, I planned to ignore it just the same as the European leg. And then a few days later, my news app showed me an article about one of their shows. Which I thought was odd because what could they have done that was so impressive that the news would write about it, and despite not having MCR news in my usual like, algorithmically decided interests, have it show up in my news feed. So I clicked it.

It was Nashville and suddenly a picture of Gerard Way wearing a cheerleader dress was directly in front of me. So I checked tumblr for the first time in a few months. Blogs that I had followed for fandoms over the years that had never been MCR blogs were posting about it. Old MCR blogs that had long been abandoned years ago but I never bothered to unfollow, suddenly were running and posting again. And I checked the tags to see what the general masses on tumblr were saying too. And every single post I saw, was an absolute outpouring of positivity and kindness and happiness. I didn’t see a single negative post. I didn’t even see any borderline inappropriate horny-on-main posts like I expected. I followed a few blogs and figured that was it. That I might check tumblr a bit more often and reblog some cool new-era-of-MCR posts. I figured nothing more shocking or emotionally investing could happen after the cheerleader dress. That was already crazy getting to see even that much.

But then they were playing Portland and a lot of the blogs I had followed were really hyped up and talking about livestreaming the show. And I wasn’t busy that night so I figured Id turn it on as background noise. And ended up watching every minute of it. The next day, I had a full break down. I couldn’t fathom settling with my life when something so incredibly amazing was out there.

That weekend, the local pop punk night DJ for the bar I go to occasionally was putting on an MCR themed/specific pop punk night, to commemorate the anniversary of the first time they played my city. I decided to make the cheerleader dress and wear it there and double it as a halloween costume. I made it in 3 days in time for the bar night.

Getting to the bar, I was nervous. The dress was short. And I’m afab but nonbinary, and I know most people look at me and say “that’s a girl” without thinking about it further. In a dress, that’s even more likely. In a short dress, I couldn’t imagine anything else happening. When I got to the bar, I was so nervous I was shaking. I immediately ordered 2 shots and a drink, hoping that being drunk would take away the anxiety. As I was waiting on my drinks, someone approached me to compliment the dress and ask me questions about how I sewed it. He wanted to buy a sewing machine for his girlfriend for Christmas and needed to know what kind to buy her. It was a nice chat.

Then, after, I went into the crowd proper. I had so many people compliment my dress, it was crazy. I had expected only a few people to even recognize it. It was a random outfit they wore once on stage, less than 2 weeks prior. Most of these people weren’t even hardcore MCR fans, just pop punk in general. But every single hardcore MCR fan I saw complimented the dress. And also? absolutely none of them assumed I was a girl. Not one. Most asked for pronouns. None were weirded out when I answered they/them. None looked at me like I was crazy or said anything negative. Some said they were too. It was the most shocking experience I have ever had in terms of my gender identity.

Out of the 4 people Ive dated in my life, 3 had been or later came out as (binary) trans people. All three of the ones who are trans, had made me feel like my gender wasn’t valid. (The cis ex I never ended up coming out to.) and those had been people who claimed to love me. People I saw every day. And yet here were a bunch of drunk MCR fans seeing someone who was very obviously female, and femme, and wearing a very short dress. And not one assumed or made me feel wrong or bad about my gender or presentation.

More time passed after that night and more shows came and went. LA nights 1-4 came and were insane every time.

And then last night. LA night 5. Of course I had to livestream it. I sobbed for most of the show. And being in a discord that was also livestreaming this show, and on tumblr seeing what people were posting, meant I got to see this extreme outpouring of love from all of the fans. And also see the outpouring of love from MCR themselves to their fans and to each other.

And for the first time since… Well pretty much ever really for me, the world doesn’t seem dark. There is so much hope and love in this world and I just. I don’t have the words to describe how incredibly much it means to me. Ive been on the verge of happy tears all day.

When I was first in the fandom back during the danger days era, there was always the cliche of saying “MCR saved my life”. And I understand it now. Do I think they saved my life? No. I did that. I went through hell to make it where I am now and no one can take that away from me. The same way the members of the band had to tear down the band and go through their own brands of hell to get to where they all are and get to play these shows for us at all. We had to do that on our own. The band didn’t do that for us.

But at the same time? Seeing that show last night? My Chemical Romance absolutely made my life worth saving. And I really really hope it makes theirs too.

[stretchjournalemerson]

One Bible Quote Pocket Knife Away From An Existential Crisis

By Jenna Reilly

For four years, from ages eight to twelve, I played in a bowling league two towns from mine at Patchogue Bowling Alley each Wednesday night from four o’clock to five thirty. The bowling alley was running down with half-seventies, half-nineties era technology and upholstery that smelt of pretzels and old carpet. But I enjoyed myself every time I went because I found that I really liked to bowl. The satisfaction of the pins crashing down from the force of the ball or the calculations needed for the perfect aim to knock down the last few pins, etc., I found much joy in the sport. I played with the same two to three boys, some varying as the years went on. Though I never got too close with them, an imaginary rivalry sprung in my head. I thought I kept it secret, but I definitely made gloating faces when I won or acted like nothing was wrong when I had lost without realizing it.

At one point, I wanted to win so bad that I began to pray to God to get strikes or win games. Not to say I didn’t work on my technique and actual skill in the game, but I used to literally pray to win when that didn’t seem to work. Thinking back, I don’t know why I thought that it would. I must have thought God worked in ways that he really didn’t, because when I didn’t win, and I found that my praying for bowling was useless, instead of questioning whether praying for sports was reasonable, I questioned why God wasn’t helping. I do not know if it was reason or lack thereof as a child, but I began to question what everyone was telling me about God. When I was twelve, I had to quit the league because Confirmation classes started for my church which were on Wednesday nights.

In my Confirmation classes, in a room filled with children’s toys within the part of the church that doubled as a preschool, we learned of men hearing signs from God, Noah’s ark filled with two of every animal in the world, and more. Our Pastor would give us sodas and snacks as he told us lessons and words from the Bible and how they could relate to our lives. Though we never discussed hot button issues like LGBTQ+ and God’s view of them or abstinence which I thought we would, that was probably for the best considering my soon-to-be-discovered sexuality.

These classes originally started two years before we were supposed to be Confirmed. Three months before our holy day, our Pastor said we would be going to classes for half a year more instead. With no explanation or reason given to us, we were all pretty confused and aggravated, but still went on.

One other requirement along with Confirmation classes was that we had to attend pretty much every Sunday mass in our little, old white church. We all did, except for my friend Ben who barely went to class nor church for the last year and a half of our Confirmation studies. This bothered my other friends and I who spent literally countless hours in that church or its classrooms. Surely what is right and fair will prevail, I thought, this is God we’re talking about, right?

Well there I was on Confirmation day with Ben and the rest of us, getting Confirmed for God. Remembering the endless hours of masses and events we all had to go through together, they all seemed rather pointless then with Ben standing there as well in the parish hall on a brisk Sunday morning in fall. I was wearing a lace-lined white dress with my black slip-on concert shoes, which hurt very badly due to my pre-existing blisters from the required Confirmation hike we went on two weeks prior. I was at the peak of the awkward stages of puberty at fourteen years old with my braces and straightened, yet still frizzy, blonde hair.

The whole congregation of my fellow church members came today with some added extended family members of the confirmands, as my pastor called us. We sat in the nicer portable fabric-covered chairs awaiting the ceremony. I was nervous that I would trip and fall or recite something incorrectly, I did not want to mess up the day we had waited so long for. But the service started and after thirty minutes and some godly songs we were called up with our immediate families.

We all stood on the sandy, gym-like wooden floor in front of the white and brown altar and five-foot cross hanging above it. Our families stood behind us, my proud Mom behind me, tearing up, and my Dad, also proud but a little less passionately, at her side. While my Mom is semi-religious, my Dad claims that the church will cave in if he steps foot inside. My Dad’s mom was very active in my church, many of the older members would speak of her and my Dad’s family very fondly to me. I did not know much of her devotion to God, though years after her death, some of her hand-made holiday decorations were still on display during my time at the church. My Dad said he had to go to mass each Sunday growing up, though he did not care much for it. And usually following in his Father’s footsteps, he has told me that my Grandpa coined the statement about the church collapsing with his presence.

As my pastor spoke, I kept feeling for an extra holy presence, which I didn’t quite find but also did not really expect. He’s always here regardless, I thought to myself. Well, maybe.

We each swore our oaths and we were suddenly Confirmed. All of that and it was over, great, I optimistically thought.

We finished up the ceremony and started to head out after our celebratory breakfast luncheon when my pastor gave us each a bag of gifts. One of them being a cross and another being a pocket knife with a bible quote. I loved the pocket knife but that seemed kind of weird to me - get Confirmed - receive a pocket knife. I guess I should have expected the unexpected when it came to this entire experience.

When I was home that night in my room, next to me a wooden cross with a brass Jesus hung on the wall by my Mom, I contemplated the day and everything that led up to it. I had to sit through two and a half years of Confirmation classes and Sunday services and then go on a required hiking retreat in the upstate mountains of New York, all while Ben missed out on most all of it, to gain an already pre-existing misunderstood concept of prayer and God and a pocket knife after some ritual of Confirmed faith? Something wasn’t adding up in my brain. This did not seem like what I thought religion was.

Back then, I would have never considered that God was not real, especially on my Confirmation day, but I did not see many logical reasons behind why my life was going how it was meanwhile God was supposed to take care of me. Now I knew things could have been much worse and I knew I was very lucky to have the life I did, but things have not always been sunshine and flowers for me. So I questioned, why would God make it that way? I wasn’t a bad kid . . . right?

I was taught to ask God for forgiveness for wrongdoing to prevent bad things from happening, so I asked and prayed. He was always supposed to forgive us, so why were things still going the way they were? Why did two of my grandparents get taken from me when I was a child? What did I do wrong back then? Why do people get to cheat their way out of things and still get the prize at the end like Ben? Why was my hard work and effort in attending two years of church and class rewarded with another half a year at the last minute? Why did I have to go hiking and get blisters on my feet to get confirmed and be accepted by God? Everything might be even more simpler than we all think it is, but if that is the case, then what is the purpose of it all if it’s not for God?

My religious journey was nothing I took too seriously for too long. Only for a few years in childhood was I devout, but I never thought much of it as it faded away, only remembering that I did not have the best experience getting Confirmed. I had many childish reasonings and ramblings that led to my questioning of faith. But sitting here now, open to any interpretation of life (personally favoring the one that we all just simply exist within scientific fact), I wonder how “wrong” I was at such a young age to question.

I grew up and at the age of fifteen I realized I was bisexual. It took a lot to overcome the internalized homophobia within myself to realize who I was. But once I did, I started to gain confidence within my sexuality and myself that I never had before. I am glad my church did not take a stance on it during my time there because it may have made my acceptance even harder, though I assumed most religions were against it. Realizing my sexuality solidified my questioning nature of God and (mainly) the major organized religions such as Christianity or the Protestant branches which I grew up under.

New questions began to unravel my ideas of God and such religions. If God loves all His creations, then why are people like me considered sinners to the church? Why was I born like this and then destined for a horrible life of discrimination and oppression? Why did I have to hate myself for fifteen years before somehow learning to like what God apparently hates of me?

Without my questioning of faith, I might still hate myself for who I naturally am. I didn’t know who I was then, but I’m grateful now that I questioned it all at such a young age to follow the path that I personally needed to. Maybe everything went wrong for the right reasons in the end.

Naturally, this all led to the loss of God as my answer to everything. Why we suffer, die, love, endure, exist, etc. So within that came a desire to have a reason for it all, which is a natural human reaction to life, and that is why so many people turn to religion. It is much simpler to live your life for God than to find a reason yourself, it seems.

Relying on God is a valuable tool when it comes to the hard things in life. That’s why it has been so popular for thousands of years: because life is not the kindest! Think about all of the people who worked their whole lives for minimum reward except the love and grace of God for their devotion and (hopefully) a one way ticket to heaven. Now, take away God and heaven from that equation, if that is all they focused on, what else did they have to live for?

If I did not have God to live for, then I needed another reason. Once I stopped relying on Him to guide me to my purpose and meaning, I felt lost in it all when things got difficult. But over time and through my experiences, I learned my own lessons of what life can provide and what I could try to make out of it. I saw love for my friends and family, passion for my interests and hobbies, confidence in who I was, the beauty of the world around me, and so much more. The hard parts of life became a little bit more blissful when I saw the brighter side of what I could make of my existence.

So when I began to question: why is this happening to me, to all of us? What is the purpose of my life? I realized that I am not completely sure, nobody truly knows. But over time, I discovered that maybe my life could be whatever I wanted to make of it.

Acknowledgements

I am very grateful for what Professor Armour has taught me about memoirs. I had not written many memoirs before Research Writing, I was more of a fan of realistic fiction and I was used to that form of storytelling. But after reading examples and studying what distinguishes a memoir from other pieces of writing, I discovered the impact they could have. This piece specifically allowed me to process many feelings from my experiences with the church and beyond. I never truly analyzed my experiences and their effects on me until I spewed it all out on a page and wrote my memoir. Professor Armour allowed me to discover a new form of analysis within my own life through writing, and I am very grateful for it.