Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone

If it wasn’t for Lea Michele’s tweet, I wouldn’t have found out that Kelly Clarkson has released her album. Yeah, and I call myself a fan of KC. Anyway, so yesterday, as eager as I was, I listened to all of Kelly’s new songs in her latest album.
 And, for crying out loud, I was so jumpy when I heard this song.
What Doesn’t Kill You (Stronger)
Kelly Clarkson
You know the bed feels warmer
Sleeping here alone
You know I dream in color
And do the things I want

You think you got the best of me
Think you’ve had the last laugh
Bet you think that everything good is gone
Think you left me broken down
Think that I’d come running back
Baby, you don’t know me, ’cause you’re dead wrong

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn’t mean I’m over ’cause you’re gone

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself, and I
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone

You heard that I was starting over with someone new
They told you I was moving on, over you
You didn’t think that I’d come back
I’d come back swinging
You tried to break me, but you see

[repeat chorus]

[repeat bridge]

Thanks to you I got a new thing started
Thanks to you I’m not the broken-hearted
Thanks to you I’m finally thinking ’bout me
You know in the end the day you left is just my beginning
In the end

[repeat chorus]

[repeat bridge x2]

I’m not alone


On happiness

I found this on my very personal folder of stuff I’ve written in the past. This is unfinished. I have found many unfinished stuff. Now I wonder how come I never finished them.
“People are unhappy because they are looking in the wrong places to be happy.”
This was the message of the pastor when I went to church just the Sunday before my graduation day. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, I heard it a couple of times already. And maybe I believed it all my life but I just can’t put it into words.
We all want to happy – this is one thing I am very certain about. We find it in between talks and chat with friends, laughing at jokes, watching out favorite TV series, listening to our favorite music artist.
The family person can define happiness as a day out with the family or a even just a meal together. The grade conscious college student defines happiness as a “one” in the major subject. The extremes define it a cliff dive or a mountain hike. The travelers would define it as Paris or Hawaii.
But at the end of the day, everyone defines it a simple smile in the face before you sleep thinking, “I am where I’m supposed to be.”
At that, I am asking you. Are you where you’re supposed to be?
In life, we’re bound to accomplish three things: we’re born, we die and in between… that’s what we have to figure out as we go on.
I guess, happiness is not a destination. You don’t have to go find and search for it, all your life thinking that happiness is something big. I believe that more than anything, happiness is a state of mind. It’s a certain kind of vibe that comes from self-fulfillment.
I would have wanted to finish it but I dunno how. I can’t remember how happy I was when I decided to write about it. Maybe someday, I can complete this thought.


This is still my favorite story to share.

I kind of stumbled upon it online and it changed my life, really. 🙂

This is probably the nth time I’d be sharing or posting this but it could change your life, too.
– Anonymous
Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love.
The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.
His tail has long age been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!!”
All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness.
Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If ever someone picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.
Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. “I must be hurting him terribly,” I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear.
Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.
Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply.
It was time to give my all to those I cared for. Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be like Ugly.

Hell Was Full, So I Came Back.

I lost count but all I know is that I’ve been gone too long.
I mean, seriously, I missed writing/blogging/babbling so much. There were various times I forced myself to actually wordify (read: verbalize) something but I just can’t. It’s either I end up with a blank page or an unfinished thing.
Before I graduated college, I wrote stuffs… non-stop. I felt like a factory of write-ups and articles and stuff and then I woke up and poof! I lost it.
I nearly ran for my life. No, yeah, that was exaggerated but I was scared to not be able to write again. Aside from my enormous singing talent (read: kidding), the only thing I have that I could call my God-given talent is my ability to passionately write about something and make it significant. To write is one thing but to get your message across people and to make them feel what you actually feel is something I had always wanted to do. So, when I kind of lost it, I kinda freaked out. Then, I gave up.
I stopped pushing myself to write again. I even loathed writing only that it was too ironic because my job requires writing a lot (read: copy writer). Well, to explain that, let’s just say, my job doesn’t require feelings – the stuff that I’m used to writing about requires a lot of those. So, there’s a difference between my job and my gift. To stay on the good track with my job, I only need to be good in grammar and construction and maybe a little creativity. But with the things I used to write about, it required knowledge about life and loads of feelings, experiences and other things that you don’t learn inside the secluded four-corners of an office.
I stopped asking questions. I stopped seeking for answers. I stopped observing. I stopped looking at things. For once in my life I had experienced not having a life. And it sucked. BIG TIME.
It sucked so bad that when I faced the mirror I told myself, get a life, bitch. But that’s the farthest I’ve gone. I only told myself to get a life but never really did anything to actually get one.
Good thing about the concept getting tired, I got tired eventually. I got tired of not being able to do the one thing I have always loved to do. I got tired of not having a life because it sucked. And I got tired of everything that sucks, so yeah. I knew I had to move forward.
Some might think I’m exaggerating about losing my will to write. But you probably won’t ever understand unless you have experienced losing something that makes you feel alive. It’s like breaking up only you don’t get to break up with someone else – you break up with yourself; you break up with the part of yourself that you love and you know you’ll never be the same again. It’s like losing a part of you and your whole life will never be complete. Yeah, it’s like that for me.
Lately, I have missed it. I missed writing so badly that I needed some kind of an event to push me and thankfully, October 1, 2011 did it for me. Something happened and while I was watching it unfold in front of me, my thoughts came rushing like… like water from top of the cliff or valley or something that would make up a waterfall. 
To be honest, it made me so happy. It made me so happy that recalling about it right now made my eyes tear up a bit. Oh well, I call myself dramatic for a reason.
But yeah, I thought I was going to hell but it was full so I had to come back. I had to come back because maybe, even Satan agreed that I still need to write a lot of stuff. I just hope I’d never have to go back on that same old slump. It sucks, really.