What Else Is There To Do When The World’s On Fire Except Fangirl Until Your Lungs Give Out?

In case you haven’t gathered, I’m going through a rough time. In fact, this is up there in the “roughest times of my whole life” Hall Of Fame. I am being told constantly, “But you’re doing so well!” “Look at you!” “Wow, I’m so proud of you!” and I appreciate the support & encouragement, I truly do. But lately, I’ve been having trouble sleeping again.

I can’t really figure it out. It made sense in the beginning. I was in a state of pure terror & confusion. Now confusion lingers like smoke after I put the inferno of my panic out, but I’m managing my stress much better than I was. There are days I sit & stare at the wall in shock but I have a soundtrack & it’s every Fall Out Boy Record on repeat. I’m wound up. An influx of energy that I don’t know what to do with. It’s not like I’m not keeping busy. I am. I’m writing like a madwoman. I’m on Chapter 5 of this work whose concept I had been toying with since the summer when I started having dreams of a certain band’s frontman.

“Project Pop Punk” became the foundation, but the two attempts I began writing didn’t stick & I couldn’t figure out why. Then one day I found myself channeling my inner 2010s Tumblr Girl & I said “Fuck it, I’m going to write some fan fiction. I’m also going to do the FF faux pas & put my damn self in it. Why? Because I don’t care.”

& I don’t. The story is flowing. It’s fun. It’s cute. It’s fantastical. It’s Fall Out Boy. I can’t believe it’s been almost two years since I saw them in concert which sparked my obsession with the band that is so out of control every single one of my algorithms is aware of it & I overconsume FOB content by the hour. & I’m having the time of my life through the aftermath of a full on tragedy. I keep thinking how I saw them as a fan, & in two years I’ve become a MEGA FAN.

I’m deep diving the early basement shows. I’m watching interviews to know every bit of the lore that I have access to. I’m reading (some) fics (because man I can’t with some of you), squealing over your FOB fan art, loving your memes, making collages, buying tee shirts, memorizing every riff & lyric.

Wouldn’t You Rather Be a Widow Than a Divorcee?

This story isn’t new for me. Once again a band is saving my life. This time around it happens to be Fall Out Boy. What was the tragedy that I spoke of in the above section? Well, how much time do you have? Let’s say that the entirety of 2025 (Year of the Snake which was supposed to be bad for people born in my birth year, & boy was it EVER) was filled with the worst of the worst & so much happened in the span of 365 days (or however long the whole Snake Year was) that I still haven’t processed it all. I mean, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ve processed much since 2020 because everything just feels so non-stop & like it’s going by so fast & maybe this is aging, or maybe this is what happens when for your entire life it feels like trauma after trauma piled on top of some more trauma with some bold, beautiful, glittering moments in between. & I do my best to hold on to that good. Believe me, I do. I’m an emo kid, yeah, but most who know me know that hope keeps trying to die inside of me but its embers still remain lit. I’m here, aren’t I? Most days that should probably be enough. But it often isn’t for me.

I don’t believe in boredom. There’s too much I’m into. There are so many books to read, films to watch, albums to listen to, people to meet & connect with, & poems to write that I become the Queen of Overdoing It, until my body or brain (or combination of both due to chronic illnesses) kick me in the ass & say “get in bed or something, this is too much.” I listen. I have no choice most of the time. The warm months are approaching & maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. I’m nervous about it, I think. My “worst of times” & this time I will be alone. & I’m going to have to navigate a lot in the depth of summer. I still don’t know where I’m going when I lose this apartment. I have my name on housing lists & I’m waiting to hear back from more, & then I’ll be waiting some more to hear from the one that’s going to contact me first saying “We have a home for you.” I’m believing in the power of life to constantly surprise me, & I’m hoping that I hear that news sooner rather than later. But I gotta tell you…I’m so tired of this “finding a home” stuff. Something is going to have to give in that department eventually, right?

If Home Is Where The Heart Is Then We’re All Just Fucked

I have moved too many times in my life. Once I moved in & out of a place on the same day. Permanent addresses used to be a joke to me. The idea of “Home” was something I didn’t even know was possible for me to find here on this Earth. Then I moved here to Traverse City. Never in my life did I ever feel like I belonged somewhere more. So I’m currently extremely pissed off that unless some miracle happens I’m going to have to leave it. I have a lot going on for me here. My poetry stuff, friends, live music, accessibility (I can get around by myself so well here), nature within walking distance, a good, safe place to be, & the community here is something rare that I don’t think people appreciate as much as they should. I feel at home here. I’m going to revert to my teenage self & cry this is not fair. Because it’s not.

After a lifetime of chaos it has felt absolutely wonderful having stability even though it was short-lived. I can say I feel more “inner stability” even though the ground is shaky. Most of the time that’s literal. I have epilepsy. I can be shaken up at any given moment. & I often am, but I deal. Things have gotten easier this past month. Fear lessened, stress levels got better, tears dried up, seizures were spaced out further. My head feels like it’s in the process of being screwed back on even if it’s still a little wobbly. This is how things like grief, recovery, & moving on work. It doesn’t mean setbacks won’t happen. One day at random I might be bawling in my kitchen over spilled coffee grounds again. I will forever miss what was. I think that’s kind of my thing.

I realize that we millennials are being sold our nostalgia back to us right now & it’s a sick cash grab for these companies most of the time, but when the present sucks most people want nothing more than to go back. Every generation does this. Ask your grandpa. Ask your parents. They’ll tell you about the good ole days. Hell, ask a 23 year old now & they’ll say ‘yeah back in the day when I was 12…’ with misty eyes. We all know what that’s about too so there’s no point in discussing it here.

But my point with this whole post (& yeah, I did that thing where I went off on a billion tangents. Sorry, not sorry) is the die-hard fangirl sphere that I found myself enter circa 1993 when The X Files premiered & that I never grew out of. I’m an absolute menace when it comes to my fandoms. I will talk your ear off constantly about shit you don’t know or care about if you let me. & if I find out you’re in a fandom of mine, I will not be able to leave you alone. & here’s the thing about it. I am often alone in it or discussing my loves with people on the internet whose names I don’t know because sometimes fangirling requires anonymity. “I don’t want to annoy my mutuals” is a common phrase in the fangirl circles. “I’m going to make a side blog, alternate account, a whole damn website, something to dedicate to my fandom so my irl friends don’t get mad about it.” & what is THAT, really? That’s something I’m guilty of for sure, but I’m so tired of that I no longer choose that path.

I’m not going to split myself into fractals any more than life has already done that for me. If you want to know me, you’re going to know all of me & if it’s annoying, then scroll by. It’s that easy, right? I’ve reached a point in my life where I feel like I’ve shrunk myself a lot for certain people or just hid parts of myself entirely because I was embarrassed by it or felt like I’d be made fun of or something ridiculous. In short, I was so terrified of being myself for so long that I nearly drove myself crazy just trying to exist.

Just being is the most liberating feeling I’ve ever experienced in my life. That’s the main thing I’ve learned about living alone. No one’s watching me. I don’t feel like anyone’s judging me. I don’t feel like I’m annoying anyone. I can make a mushroom pizza at 3 am. I can wake up at 6 AM & blast Folie a Deux as loud as I want to (without disturbing neighbors of course). I can sing into my hairbrush, make messes, write for hours without having to stop for someone else, basically do whatever I damn well please. It’s fun once it’s not so scary. I’m finding I enjoy it immensely.

You Are What You Love, Not Who Loves You

This is what it boils down to really: Love. Doing what you love. Being who you love. & if it’s in the stars for you, finding others to love & who love you back. & love can mean so many different things to everyone & that is beautiful. Just please, love something. Love someone. Get into something. A hobby. A fandom. Learn guitar. Learn basket weaving. Just be into something. Let it consume you. Let it be all you think of. & if that thing is a person, good for you. If that person is yourself, even better. Just don’t give up on the idea that love is still the most powerful force in the universe no matter what happens in your life. I haven’t. & I’ve been in the shit.

The world often sucks. Life often sucks. I don’t think this is a negative viewpoint, I think it’s realistic. But what’s also realistic is knowing that there are so many times when life is so damn good & you will remember those moments too. Ever been to a live show? Ever feel the energy of a crowd around you loving the band on stage as much as you do? Ever be sitting in a random Taco Bell & a song you love comes on? Ever be wandering around the woods & you see some absolute miracle of nature you can’t find words to describe? Ever smile at a stranger who smiles back? This is why we’re alive. Those moments. So celebrate those alongside the mourning of what is or was. Balance is key.

Because what else is there to do, really? Wallowing is fine. Joy is better. I don’t deprive myself of feeling every range of emotion & all in between so intensely it can knock me down. I don’t know any other way to be & believe me I’ve tried to be something different. But no more. I’m me. I love me. & I hope I never break up with myself again.

Tomorrow I’m going to see some bands play & it’s been way too long since I’ve seen live music so I’m very excited about this. I can’t wait to see familiar faces, cut loose, & enjoy myself. It’s going to be a blast.

Now I want to know what you love. Geek out with me here. You’re more than welcome to. Bands, TV shows, sports teams, whatever…tell me all about it. & if you’re a Fall Out Boy megafan like myself, please don’t hesitate to share your Patrick Stump edits because…well, I have a friend who…oh, ok, fine, whatever, because I want them. He’s a precious angel, the greatest vocalist of my generation, & a damn fine human. (I know this. I’ve never met him, but I know this!) Share away.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for all your kindness & support. Thanks for being good humans. Let’s ride out the last of this Winter, eh? I’m glad you’re here.

Main Image by Eneida Mattou from Pixabay
Heading titles belong to Fall Out Boy