All my revolutions happen in March.
It’s strange to tally it up and see it laid out, but nearly all of the momentous changes in my adult life - for good or for ill - have occurred in March. New homes, new jobs, major illnesses, family deaths and the ends of relationships, all in this month. Spring winds sweep through my life, and change everything. I first caught sight of My Chemical Romance in March, left everything in storage and hit the road to follow them in March, and now...
I like Spring, but I don’t like March.
MCR’s announcement hit me hard. I think I never really believed that the day they always said would come ever would. Somehow, like a fairy tale, it would never really happen, would always be just over the horizon, east of the sun and west of the moon. I have joked that I planned on being seventy years old and still hanging on the front rail, risking broken bones by jumping when Gerard shouts “JUMP!” and singing at the top of my quavering voice when he growls “SING IT.” My Chem has been such a huge part of my life in these last eight years that I couldn’t really imagine them ever not being a part of it.
And now, I have to figure out how to accept this new reality, this awful revolution, that put me in a world where I will never again stand in line all day with friends and strangers, as a tribe. Where I’ll never watch Ray Toro shred right in front of me, never get ordered around by Gerard Way, never feel as alive as only being at one of their shows can make me feel.
I love being at shows, and there’s lots of wonderful bands to see and music to hear, but My Chemical Romance are one of a kind.
So, yes: I’m grieving. A part of my heart’s family has just died.
And yet...
One of the things that I’ve always loved about this band is that they do the unexpected thing. Even from the first glimpse I had of them, I could tell that, above all, they listened to their inner voice, and walked their own path. It was like watching my own guiding principle come to life in front of me. And every time they took a turn I didn’t see coming, I was excited by the new direction, and loved having to take a quick hard jog to keep up.
This isn’t really any different. They are still doing what they need to, they are still being guided by their own unique vision of what My Chemical Romance needs to be.
I want to be mad at them, but I understand, very well, what it feels like to need to make big changes in one’s life. To be one’s own catalyst. To break new ground. It’s what I’ve been doing, after all. It’s how one stays alive.
So, I read Gerard’s letter, and am touched by his generosity in being so open (and am smiling at his tweets -- but that's just my SOP). I will grieve, because this is a farewell I never wanted to say, and I am heartsore, but I will also look forward to each new creative endeavor that comes from these very talented men, because it is still about being authentic, and still about art.
The band I love hasn’t gone away, it’s just changed shape.
And that’s what March does - it brings change. Tumultuous, and sometimes painful, but necessary.
"The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them." ― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island
I like Spring, but I don’t like March.
MCR’s announcement hit me hard. I think I never really believed that the day they always said would come ever would. Somehow, like a fairy tale, it would never really happen, would always be just over the horizon, east of the sun and west of the moon. I have joked that I planned on being seventy years old and still hanging on the front rail, risking broken bones by jumping when Gerard shouts “JUMP!” and singing at the top of my quavering voice when he growls “SING IT.” My Chem has been such a huge part of my life in these last eight years that I couldn’t really imagine them ever not being a part of it.
And now, I have to figure out how to accept this new reality, this awful revolution, that put me in a world where I will never again stand in line all day with friends and strangers, as a tribe. Where I’ll never watch Ray Toro shred right in front of me, never get ordered around by Gerard Way, never feel as alive as only being at one of their shows can make me feel.
I love being at shows, and there’s lots of wonderful bands to see and music to hear, but My Chemical Romance are one of a kind.
So, yes: I’m grieving. A part of my heart’s family has just died.
And yet...
One of the things that I’ve always loved about this band is that they do the unexpected thing. Even from the first glimpse I had of them, I could tell that, above all, they listened to their inner voice, and walked their own path. It was like watching my own guiding principle come to life in front of me. And every time they took a turn I didn’t see coming, I was excited by the new direction, and loved having to take a quick hard jog to keep up.
This isn’t really any different. They are still doing what they need to, they are still being guided by their own unique vision of what My Chemical Romance needs to be.
I want to be mad at them, but I understand, very well, what it feels like to need to make big changes in one’s life. To be one’s own catalyst. To break new ground. It’s what I’ve been doing, after all. It’s how one stays alive.
So, I read Gerard’s letter, and am touched by his generosity in being so open (and am smiling at his tweets -- but that's just my SOP). I will grieve, because this is a farewell I never wanted to say, and I am heartsore, but I will also look forward to each new creative endeavor that comes from these very talented men, because it is still about being authentic, and still about art.
The band I love hasn’t gone away, it’s just changed shape.
And that’s what March does - it brings change. Tumultuous, and sometimes painful, but necessary.
"The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them." ― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island