Tour Check-In: Anaheim, San Francisco, Sacramento
House of Blues Anaheim is one of the good ones. They know what we do, they support what we do, and they make it easy. There’s parking, which means I don’t have to stress about Lilly being safe. We swabbed 18 people, thanks mostly to the shoutouts from the bands and the prime real estate right in front of the door to The Parish. I’ve done this venue plenty of times with Bowling for Soup, and every time, it just works. But my mental health was still on the low side. It’s hard to explain - sometimes, I’m just overwhelmingly sad. Living on the road, doing all of this… sometimes it just gets to me. Feeling lonely, feeling isolated in my own thoughts, wondering if this is really what I’m supposed to be doing—those thoughts creep in, and once they start, it’s hard to shake them.
Don’t get me wrong—I love helping people. I love knowing that what we do can literally saves lives. But sometimes, everything that comes with helping people, especially in punk rock, is soul-draining.
The punk scene and community come with this weird, never-ending high school drama that just never fully disappears. No matter how much older we get, there’s always some petty nonsense lurking in the background.
Seriously, just listen to Bowling for Soup’s High School Never Ends—because it doesn’t.
And on top of all that, there’s always some new reason for us to be attacked as a nonprofit.
We don’t do enough. We do too much of the wrong thing. We were once at a show with a band that did something 30 years ago, so now we should be ashamed of ourselves. There’s no way we actually need money to do this—we must be out partying and blowing it on nonsense.
It’s constant.
And I feel everything. I’m so empathetic that all of it just weighs on me. Every critique, every backhanded comment, every accusation - it sticks. Even when I know we’re doing good, even when I see firsthand the lives we impact, it still gets exhausting.
And that’s where my mind sits most of the day - Punk Rock Saves Lives running on a constant loop in my head. Every decision, every stressor, every critique—it just keeps spinning.
Every once in a while, I let myself wallow about my personal life, but honestly? Does that even exist anymore? Because that’s the real problem. I’ve been so wrapped up in this mission, this work, this nonstop grind that I don’t even know where I fit into it anymore.
And that’s where my brain has been this week—stuck in the in-between, exhausted, and trying to figure out the next step for the nonprofit while getting ready for the next activation, the next show.
Then, San Francisco happened.
Van was fine, got gas, went to start it up - dead. Nothing. Just a whole lot of nothing. We had my jump box, got it running, drove another 2-3 hours, stopped at an auto shop - battery dead again. They tested it. Everything looked fine. Drove to Bottom of the Hill, parked - dead again. At this point, I’m just tired. AAA finally came, charged it, made some of the connection tighter and suddenly, everything was fine. Because of course, it just magically works now. The stress of maybe having to drop another $200-$500 on who even knows what was disheartening as hell.
And then, the show itself… not the BEST. Swabbed 5 people, but the whole day had already drained me. I spent the entire day crying, trying to shake off the sads, but the vibe just wasn’t there. The audience felt disconnected, like nothing outside of the band even existed. Some nights, it’s a fight to get people to care, and in San Francisco, it was a battle just to give away free things.
Shoutout to Henry Menzel of Keep Flying for being an absolute lifesaver. He took some of my panicked mess off my shoulders - helping with PRSL introductions, making sure we got a spot at the venues, and just talking me down when it felt like everything was on fire. Some people just get it, and Henry is one of them. Do yourself a favor and check out Keep Flying’s new single. (Which happened to be released this past week!)
Sacramento – A Much-Needed Win
Sacramento, though? Saved my soul a little. People actually engaging, actually listening, actually giving a damn. Talking about swabbing and instead of brushing it off, they just say “Okay” and sign up. Simple as that. It’s the kind of show that reminds me why I do this, why I keep pushing forward even on the hardest days.
We wrapped up the five-day run with Driveways, Eternal Boy, and Good Terms with 54 new swabs for the national bone marrow registry. On top of that, we handed out 100 doses of Narcan, 200 sets of earplugs, and a bunch of other essentials from our harm reduction stash. But man, these crowds were a tough sell - even for the free stuff. I don’t know what it was, but getting people to take literally life-saving resources felt like pulling teeth. Some tours, people flock to the table. This time? It was more like dragging them in one by one.
Still, 54 swabs is 54 chances to save a life. And that’s what keeps us moving.
But donations were...Low. Maybe about $1,000 total. And just for some perspective—gas in California right now? $100 a tank. I burned through two tanks just getting down to SoCal and two more heading back up north. That’s $400 in gas alone. Plus, I grabbed a hotel in San Diego since I didn’t find a solid place to park the van, but otherwise, it’s been full-on van life - showering at Planet Fitness and making it work.
Sleeping in a van isn’t always free, especially in California, where they’re doing everything they can to discourage anyone from parking overnight in lots or on the street. It’s a constant game of finding a place where I won’t get hassled or ticketed.
I lucked out a few nights - Harvest Hosts, truck stops - but I also ended up crashing in two airport parking lots, which, yeah, cost money. The upside? You’re locked in behind gates, which makes it feel way safer than sketchy side streets or random lots where you’re always half-worried about getting that dreaded knock on the window at 3 AM.
Sunday, I let my body give in to sleep. I crashed at another Harvest Host spot, this time in an orchard—just me, the trees, and some much-needed stillness. I didn’t just need the rest because I was fucking exhausted—I needed it because on the rare days I actually stop moving, my mind turns against me. Resting isn’t just physical; it’s a battle with myself.
Monday, February 24th, was all about media. I kicked off the day with an interview on a morning talk show in San Francisco, then wrapped it up with What’s Popping San Francisco, alongside the badass women of Doll Fest. We talked about why Punk Rock Saves Lives matters, why community-driven activism belongs in punk, and why Doll Fest is making space for these kinds of activations. It fired me up to be part of something built by such a powerhouse crew of women. The punk scene—hell, the entire music world—is still overwhelmingly male. Seeing what these femme-leaning humans have built, and knowing I get to be a part of it?
And that was the week—a mix of exhaustion, purpose, and the never-ending push forward to the next round of chaos. I’ve got a couple of days off before DOLLFEST this weekend, which means it’s time to tackle the real monsters: spreadsheets, the dreaded website, our volunteer portal, and—oh yeah—finding a lead for a festival in April.
All of that is totally doable in two-ish days, right? …Right?
XOXO, Tina
LINKS to continue to support Punk Rock Saves Lives on the road.
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