Ad Astra Per Aspera

Peter. Conwell.

 

Peter. Conwell.

 

Peter. Freaking Conwell!

 

 

 

Who is Peter Conwell, you ask?

 

Oh, no one.

 

Just my future, is all.

 

 

 

Let me elaborate.

 

Me and him?

We are the cliché of all clichés.

The ‘happily ever after’ of all stories.

 

We’ve known each other since we were in diapers.

We’ve been next door neighbors since we were born.

We’ve been best friends.

We’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend.

We had our first kiss together.

We even lost our virginities to each other.

 

We used to have pretend weddings where I was the bride and he was the groom.

We thought of names for our “future children”, Oliver and Melanie.
 

My family loves him.

His family love me.

 

Everyone said we would end up together.

Everyone knew we would end up together.

Even I thought we would end up together.

 

We’d go to college together.

Get married, raise a family, have grandchildren, then tell them about how we were each others first love.

 

But no,

He had to go and turn out

 

Gay.

The Piano's Façade





He sat still while her fingers slid onto the keys.

"You play?" He asked hesitantly.

With her eyes closed she let her fingers glide over the keys, and speak.











 

 

This was inspired by a movie and a dream I had.
If you've seen "The Quiet" starring Camilla Belle and Elisha Cuthbert, then you'll know that 'The Piano Player (Girl)' in the story is half based on Camilla Belle's character, Dot.

Here's the movie summary:

"Following the death of her father, a teenage Dot moves into the home of her godparents and their teenage daughter Nina. Dot arrives wrapped up in the silence of being deaf-mute. She finds a different kind of silence waiting for her in her new home, for this home is a place with a dark secret involving Nina and her father. At first, Dot and Nina seem to be polar opposites. However, they gradually realize how much they have in common. Bringing them together catalyzes a series of events in which both reveal their secrets and shed their double lives. A violent consummation almost destroys them. Yet they find hope for the future in the quiet after the storm."

I know most people didn't like the movie, but personally, I enjoyed it's eerie feel and was really inspired by Dot and (as strange as it sounds) the piano's part in the movie.

Anyway, there was a voice-over of Dot talking about how her father would press his head against the piano as she played to "hear" the music (due to him being deaf).


The dream I had was about a girl in a room full of pianos. She sat at the piano in center of the room. All I could see was the back of her.

Then a guy came in and sat next to her. He asked if she could play as she slid her hands over the keys. She started to play. It sounded so (as corny as it sounds) beautiful.

When she stopped playing, he asked about her background on the piano. Which is what really got me.

Although they talked about how long she played, blah blah blah, it seemed like they were really talking about her story. Why she seemed so...disclosed.

You could hear it in her voice. It was like she wasn't really there. (and I still couldn't see her face.)
And oh, the poor guy. All he wanted was to know this girl. This mysterious girl he had just met (I think?).
He was already head over heels for her. (You could just tell.)
But she was so elusive. Like he didn't have a chance to begin with.

But then miracle struck, and he asked the million dollar question, "Who got you into it?"
And from there, he'd gotten to her.

Her mother played the piano, when she was young, she would sneak downstairs to listen to her play.

Her mother would always tell her to close her eyes when she listened, to see the image of what she saw when she heard the music.

Her mother though, had died, and so her father, heartbroken, forced her to play, everyday, so he could feel like her mother was there, when she (the girl) wanted never to touch a piano again.

The guy then, asked her what she saw each time she closed her eyes.

She told him to close his eyes and listen as she played, then asked him what he saw.

He told her, "A beautiful woman."

And she says, "That's her." (She saw her mother whenever she closed her eyes, which was why she never wanted to play the piano, and more importantly, hear the music, for it was too painful.)

In which he replied, "No, that's you." (Yeah, I know. What a cheesy line, but that's what happened.)

Then, I saw her face for the first time. Nope. I didn't.

Instead, I heard her play again, and this time, the music was happy.

Prelude

--

...I was that kid that blended in. You couldn't pick me out of a crowd. I never sat in the back with the cool kids or burnouts. I never sat in the front with the teacher's pets or overachievers. I wasn't an athlete. I wasn't an artist. I wasn't a musician. I wasn't a genius. I wasn't stunning nor was I hideous. I used to get picked on a lot. After years of torture, they eventually left me alone. I was now invisible. But that was fine. I saw nothing worthwhile. I no longer saw any point. Nothing seemed to interest me in the slightest bit.

And then I met him.

"Him: By Anonymous" was this idea that just popped into my head one day. The story of First Love in the entries of one's diary. Gushing about the object of one's affection through several pages that's supposed to be about their life, but somehow becomes a biography about another, being admired from afar by the narrator. They somehow consume every page of your life, as if they are your life.

Somewhere along the way though, it lost it's spark of magic. It didn't seem real, didn't feel real anymore. And that's all I wanted it to be. For someone to read this, and feel like it's them who's writing the entries, them who's looking back at their old journals and diaries. I wanted it to make them look through boxes and boxes in the attic or basement for their dear old secret keeper.

One day, maybe, I'll revise this story. But right now, I'm really just tired and uninspired.

(I've been using that line for a while now as my excuse for not writing anything.)

 












Wow. 
It's been so long since I've written anything other than articles on guest speakers and album reviews.
I guess I've just been "Tired and Uninspired". (Hehe. Sorry, couldn't help it. (Reference to a My American Heart song).)
Anyway, it's late, and as usual, I'm not the least bit tired. I bought this book the other day, and it's absolutely incredible.

It's about this family - that could be the prime example of dysfunctional families - that on the surface, are the all-american family, but behind the facade, behind the closed doors, are people who are absolutely terrified of themselves and each other. It's like they're each two different people in one body.
A mother throwing all of her into some campaign to run away.
A father who's a heartbroken, self-pitying drunk who most would consider to be "scum".
Twins, one the object of unwanted affection which causes her to keep a distance of every person in a mile radius of her, and the other who's the "reject" of the family, drowning herself in booze, weed, and sex to try and feel just the tiniest bit of love.
And a set of grandparents, one who didn't even know the existence of his son's children, and the other yet another alcoholic.
Then you get this total curve ball at the end. (Though I kind of predicted it.)
I can barely get through a page without wanting to scream, or feeling sick to my stomach.

Then, I'm just searching around the 'net, and I stumble on articles upon articles of "the seven deadly sins", "present-day immoralities", etc.
And it's then I realize, there's no one on this earth that doesn't commit at least one of these 'immoral acts'. So does that mean we're all going to hell? That can't be. So let's just add it on as another reason to my "Why I don't follow religion" list.
These 'deadly' acts are what we all commit on a daily basis.
Was it easier back then to steer clear of committing these? I honestly don't understand.
And when I really think about it, we're incapable of NOT committing sins. It's in our nature. It's what makes us human - flawed and all.

I'll See You In Hell





So go on to the bathroom,
Make sure that no one's looking.
Shut the door behind you,
Make sure you close it tight.

This is actually really old. At least over two years old.
It was written for a friend.
Just thought I'd put this up so neither of us would ever forget it.