no one will reblog this because i'm sure no one remembers this show but i loved it and miss it

A Note From Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance's breakup if you haven't read it yet

A note from Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance’s breakup:

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.

[[/MORE]]

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

softcho  asked:

hello! I am fairly new to the fandom and have just restarted my blog, making a new account and deleting the old. since you are my favorite Sherlock/johnlock blog on this entire god forsaken website I wanted to ask you maybe for some help in getting involved in the fandom? how do I get involved in the community, start talking to people, what are some of the most popular fanfictions or "landmark" theories or fan made stuff, anything like that I should know? sorry to bother you but tysm!!

OKAY FIRST OF ALL: SADFASFSDF YOU’RE AMAZING, THANK YOU! :D :D <3 I’m honoured to be one of your favourite blogs!

Well, “getting involved” means interacting with the fandom itself; my own experience is that I was simply a lurker for about a year, then posted up some of my own theories, and then started commenting on other people’s posts. 

Seriously, reblog and comment on posts respectfully, and some bloggers will gladly interact with you via the post. But don’t be discouraged; some bloggers genuinely cannot keep up with how many comments and reblogs the get on their posts, so know that them not interacting with you specifically is not personal. 

Join watchalongs with like-minded bloggers (ie. other Johnlockers); I met a LOT of awesome people doing those and are some of my favourite things here! The ones I go to are hosted every weekend; The Sunday Crew hosted by @cupidford and Saturday night by @gunshyvw, and sometimes bloggers will post on their blogs if anyone wants to watch a show with them – DM them to ask them if you may join! @finalproblem also hosts a Wednesday night Sherlockian Watchalong, so if you want to meet various people from various groups in the fandom, you can join them! :)

As for talking to other people privately, I’m actually the worst though; my own shyness makes me not be the one to initiate a conversation, but I’m always receptive to people DM’ing me in the chat. Find a post you want to share with someone, or comment privately on someone’s post to start up a conversation! With me anyway, I LOVE when people take the time to comment privately on something I wrote about and then ask me some details. OR find out their ships and send fluffy headcanons; wins me over every time. Just be patient: Real life is still a priority for a lot of us, unfortunately. 

Making friends is not going to happen overnight; like in real life, don’t ‘force’ yourself into being someone else’s friend. Let it grow gradually. Most people are here to make friends, so if you respect them, they’ll come to respect you and adore you. It’s tough, I know, to be new in such a HUGE fandom, but you’ll definitely find those few people you click with indefinitely :)

So! Fandom. I’m assuming your meaning the Johnlock fandom, since my blog is pretty clear what I’m about, so here goes:

  • For some Johnlock fandom things, may I suggest my TJLC Beginner’s Guide? I mention some of the tropes in the Johnlock fandom you’ll come across as well as some of the popular theories. Some of the links may be broken, jsyk :p
  • For other fandom theories, I have a RIDICULOUS Masterpost that may take you several days to wade through, so you can check that out! I also write meta as well, and I reply to a lot of asks, so you can peruse those too!
  • I have a list of my own fic recs here, I’ve a blog tag here, and some of the blogs the I KNOW that rec fics a lot are @cupidford and @kinklock. There are a TONNE more, guaranteed, and I’m sure my followers will be happy to help you out. Plus, peruse my johnlock ficlets tag to find some brilliant authors who write weekly ficlets! There is some smut in the tag, so please heed the additional tags. There are SO many great authors on this site, and I encourage them to reblog this with their own fave/popular fics attached because I KNOW I’m going to miss people and I hate doing that :)
  • I know there are SO many, and I encourage my followers to help me out, but I know for a fact @kayjaykayme and @cupidford make image manips, @softsons is currently making a FABULOUS TJLC Explained video series and @vanetti makes fanvids! There are a TONNE of artists, so, like the fic writers, please add yourself to this post! Shameless self promo: @stephdrawsjohnlock is my Johnlock art blog.

And in conclusion: it’s NEVER A BOTHER!! I love helping newbies out around here! As a heads up, you and everyone have a new friend in me! Please feel free to message me anytime; just know I won’t reply right away because I don’t have chat on my version of the mobile app because it sucks, lol. But when I can, I try to reply to every chat message I get.

And remember: it’s more fun if you’re here because you want to have fun! If you’re here only to gain popularity or followers, it will not be a good time. Be here for YOU. Be here because you WANT to be happy! My blog is made to make me happy on my sad days; that’s what it should be for you too! Others will find you :)

anonymous asked:

Maybe I'm missing something but I'm not sure why you like the "Girls,Girls, Girls, Boys, Boys, Boys" meta so much. Doesn't it essentially say Dean was the dim, weak, ordinary, expendable hooker while Sam was the smart, independent, special one? That paints Sam in a great light (and Cas did pretty well too). But I don 't think it does Dean any favors and I hope to God that's not how the writers see Dean's character

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. I am sorry if reading that meta upset you, or made you uncomfortable. Like season 10’s narrative, I had interpreted the parallel only one way by looking at it as foreshadowing of the seasonal arc/plot-development. So, let me explain that one first and then I will try to answer your concerns.

The meta refers to an idea that I (and a lot of others) have been wondering about ever since First Born. Namely, how Not Moose became the centre of Crowley’s focus all of a sudden when Sam had always been his Marnie. I think pirrofarfalla and lost-shoe have meta-ed and speculated about Sam being endgame before and pirrofarfalla and I both exploded the moment we heard the word decoy, because to me it seems like a confirmation that Sam is indeed Crowley’s endgame.

Because for all of Crowley’s bro-pining after Dean left, he let him go shockingly easily once it became clear that the narrative Crowley had spun around their friendship was very different then Dean’s. In fact, once it became clear that Dean wasn’t on a leash, but was actually threatening to turn on him, Crowley let him go. With the constant dog reference in relation to Dean, he clearly was Crowley’s attack dog at the beginning of the season. So, it is a small step to assume that Dean’s secondary function will turn out to be being a decoy. Given that Sam is on a down-ward spiral as much as Dean was last season, I am pretty sure Crowley has something in store for him. Like his mother, he has had his eye on the one he truly wants all the time. That the meta I reblogged took the parallel about this further and also had a DeanCas reading attached to it just felt like the icing on the cake to me. So, I hit reblog with glee.

Your ask made me realise, though, that it can definitely be interpreted differently, and while I disagree with the terms you use to describe Elle, you had me wondering about why the parallel was written the way it was written. I think my response to that lies in the second part of your ask “I hope to God that’s not how the writers see Dean’s character.”

Remember that the writers don’t just write for us the fandom who meta and gif the show and write character analyses and know these characters as much as TPTB do. A parallel like this needs to be obvious to the general public as well. To a general audience Sam is the bookish one while Dean is the fighting one. Dean is smartest when he is on the move, planning battles, reacting. Sam is smart with Latin, went to Stanford, and is a genius with research. So, to make the parallel clear to a general audience (or at least to have them think back later “oh that was a clever set up”) a writer has to play into these general notions about the characters. So, to me, it makes sense that Elle wouldn’t know Latin from Spanish and not know what phonetics are.

But it is in that second part -the phonetics reference- that Berens pulled a lovely trick, which is also where my argument starts that I think no one on SPN sees Dean as dumb, weak, ordinary or expendable.

Earlier this episode Dean said

That doesn’t sound like love to me.

Dean “Love and….love” Winchester referenced his biggest emotional hang-up with the idea of sound/phonetics.  If we take Elle to be Dean’s parallel, her not knowing what phonetics means should, therefore, be linked to that comment. To me, it says that Dean is learning that love is interpretable in multiple. That when one says “Love” it can mean many things. As an attack dog, he couldn’t do this, but now that he is human again, we get speeches like the one at the end of this episode, in which Dean acknowledges he is loved by Cas and Sam. Now all he needs to do is interpret those loves correctly. I guess you can see this as dumb, but like Elle, it strikes me more as not being educated and being hungry to learn.

But other than that…. when it comes to dumb, it was during Carver’s run we had Sam establish Carver’s view on Dean with his “Dean you’re a genius speech” and multiple other references to Dean’s smarts. So, I don’t think he is viewed as such.

Expendable… a big no for me. Even if TPTB collectively were the biggest Dean-haters on the face of the planet, they still know that killing Dean permanently would mean the end of the series. If anything, Elle’s death served to stengthen the parallel with Dean, not as foreshadowing but to remind us of this:

Dean as a character is many things, but expendable he isn’t. Not to us, not to the show.

Ordinary…not on your life. He has been written taking on three demons and winning, he is exceptionally kind to kids, fights on even against the odds. If anything, to me, Dean has become more explicitly extraordinary since Carver took over.

Okay, this has gotten a bit out of hand already, anon, so I am wrapping up. I hope somewhere in this mess, I kinda answered your question/addressed your concerns. If you are not convinced about my interpretation of this episode, then at least allow for a little bit of leeway towards the writers and Carver. Look at the seasons 8,9 and 10 as a whole and I think you will find a lot of love and respect for Dean’s character.