5 Tips for achieving positive self-esteem

Full disclosure: this is just the opinionated rambling of a straight, cis-gendered, Asian male—fairly high up on the privilege totem pole. I am not academically educated in the subject matter, nor am I certified as a life coach or anything. All I know is that I rate myself as having a pretty high measure of self-esteem, and these are the tips I’ve gathered along the way to get me there. Starting with perhaps the least obvious, but most intuitive:

1) Self-esteem, like most things, is a skill.

Like riding a bike, self-esteem is something you have to practice. I imagine there are few people who are born with the innate ability to ride a bike. Similarly, we have to learn how to keep ourselves in high self-esteem. If you feel more comfortable, start small: tell yourself—out loud—that you were proud of something you did. Maybe you sent an email you’ve been dreading. Maybe you made your bed after not having done that for weeks. Maybe you did your laundry when it felt like an insurmountably daunting task just yesterday. It might sound silly, and you might sardonically congratulate yourself by saying, “Wow, you did something all normal functioning humans can do. Good job.” But I urge you to fight that reflex and genuinely congratulate yourself with sincerity: “I did good.”

The thing that’s hard to break away from (and the thing that probably takes the most time to do) is the imposter syndrome of self-esteem. You may feel like you don’t “deserve” congratulations or praise. And that might be because you were never externally validated for doing things in your past. Or maybe you were always expected to “do better,” no matter how proud of yourself you happened to be in the moment. The problem with not getting enough external validation as a young person is that we develop into grown ups without the verbal tools to know how to self-validate. And if this sounds like you—if B+ was never a good enough grade for your parents—then you’ll need to learn how to be proud of yourself. Remember: we all deserve to feel proud of ourselves.

2) If small self-congratulations don’t feel right, self-aggrandize.

So, maybe you’re not the type who feels good about genuinely congratulating yourself for something “normal people should be able to do” (your words, not mine). That can be a pretty hard hump to get over. If that’s the case, then try dialing it up to 11 and use self-aggrandizing language with yourself. I picked up this trait by accident, but I’ve noticed that it’s a really helpful one for increasing one’s self-esteem in a silly, but fun, way. Here’s an example:

You’re walking up some stairs with some friends, and as you come to the last step, you stumble and fall to the ground. You might feel a bit embarrassed in the moment. But then you say, “I am truly the most graceful person on the planet,” as you get up and dust yourself off.

That’s self-aggrandization. Whenever you fumble something, use humor to say the opposite of how you feel and go even further. It usually gets a laugh from your friends, and that can be a huge alleviator on all the social stress of looking silly. When you get the hang of saying something like “I’m truly the most careful person alive,” after spilling a soda at the dinner table, try self-aggrandizing with positive things, too. Here’s another example:

You’ve just finished learning how to cook a new dish. You plate it, eat it, and it was actually pretty damn good. You say out loud, “Eat your heart out, Gordon Ramsay.”

Self-aggrandization is a great pathway to positive self-esteem because you and people around you know you’re kidding, but you’re also practicing saying something nice about yourself. Which is better than the alternative, and leads us to the next tip…

3) Don’t say anything about yourself that you wouldn’t want people to agree with.

Self-deprecation is the opposite of self-aggrandization. And it’s what most people find themselves leaning into, unfortunately. See if any of these things sound like you:

I’m sorry I’m late; I’m the worst.

Sorry for forgetting your birthday; I’m literally trash.

God, why did I wear this outfit? It’s so extra.

Does my makeup look stupid?

I wish I was prettier.

I’m such an idiot.

The thing about self-deprecation is that it can often start as a defense mechanism: we’ll say the bad things first because, well, everyone’s already thinking it, right? So if I say it first, they can’t say it, and then it won’t hurt me as bad. We think that “acknowledging our flaws” makes us “humble,” or that it “gives us permission” to be flawed, or that it shows we’re aware and contrite about something. But the truth is that self-deprecation just hurts us. People who care about you will never say things to hurt you on purpose. And above all others, we should want to care about ourselves the most. So don’t say bad things about yourself.

If you need a different kind of motivation, consider that self-deprecation not only makes us get used to hating ourselves; it also makes those around us uncomfortable. When you self-deprecate, you often socially force others to externally validate you, which can get exhausting if done too much. You’ll sometimes hear people lament that “So-and-so is always fishing for compliments,” and you don’t want people to view you that way. This is why self-validation is such an important skill to learn.

4) Practice gratitude.

This one is actually pretty vogue in the social landscape lately, and I’m actually quite thankful for it (see what I did there?). Conceptually, gratitude is a no-brainer. But it’s a skill that can be difficult to master, probably for evolutionary reasons. I think Heath Ledger’s Joker said it the best in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight (albeit in a more macabre way than I’m saying):

“Nobody panics when things go according to plan.”
—Joker, The Dark Knight

Humans generally expect things to go right. It’s our default. And because of that, we tend to take things for granted. But when something bad happens, it consumes us.

“You’re such a self-pitying masochist that I could say 10 nice things and 1 mean thing, and you would only hear the 1 mean thing.”

—Princess Carolyn, Bojack Horseman

Kinda related: you should definitely watch Bojack Horseman if you haven’t already. Anyway, when you practice gratitude, you start to see things for how good they are rather than how good they aren’t. It’s deceptively simple, but it goes something like this: list 5 unique things you’re thankful for a day. Eventually, you’ll be able to do it in real time. And if you need help keeping track of it, try this gratitude journal from Munich-based educational YouTube channel, Kurzgesagt (I am not sponsored by them in any way. I’m just a really big fan).

How does this help with your self-esteem? Well, by being grateful about things at large, you’ll also naturally end up listing things about yourself. Maybe you’re grateful that you have a roof over your head, which means you’re grateful that you have a job that’s sustaining you, which means you have a skill that you’ve learned, which means you’re probably good at something. There’s a lot to be thankful about you being you. You just have to teach yourself how to be good at recognizing it.

5) Be patient and forgive yourself.

Seldom few people get this right from the get-go. And the older we are when we start this stuff, the harder it becomes to internalize and make habitual. So it’s okay if you slip up sometimes. If one day, you’re feeling extra low and you can’t seem to stop beating yourself up, it’s not going to help if you then also beat yourself up for beating yourself up. Let yourself feel bad sometimes. Tell yourself that it’s okay. Forgive yourself for being mean to yourself. Low self-esteem is a bitch and a half to get over. But when you feel like you’ve gotten through it, get back to telling yourself how fucking awesome you are.

Conclusion:

If you want to track towards positive self-esteem in the way I did, try these five things:

1. Practice it a lot, and start small

2. Self-aggrandize both your mistakes and successes

3. Don’t self-deprecate

4. Practice being grateful

5. Forgive yourself

Positive self-esteem is a learning game, and different people start out with different measures of self-esteem. Also, you may need more help than some random kid’s blog post on the Internet. So if you’ve been struggling with feelings of self-loathing for a while, it might be a good idea to consult a professional like your doctor. It could be a sign of clinical depression. Your brain, just like your kidneys, is a vital organ—arguably the most vital organ—in your body. And just like you’d take care of your kidneys in the case of a hepatic event, you should also check in on your brain if you feel like your brain chemistry isn’t normal. Good luck, and I love you ❤️

Navigating Heartbreak Series 5/5: The Finish Line

I’m certain that the “finish line” is a different definition for every person, and it’s been a real struggle even just finding the words to articulate what I wanted to say about it in this blog. But I want to take the time to document the fact that I think I’ve crossed the finish line of my big heartbreak this year, and have entered into an entirely different territory of love and adventure. More on that later. But for now, let me tell you how I know I’ve crossed the first finish line:

I no longer think about my ex every day.
The thought of her used to torment me. Dreams, physical reminders, sounds, smells…all of these things would conjure mental images of what she and I were in the past. But as the days went on and I healed the wound she left, things stopped reminding me of her. In fact, even when I do happen to find myself thinking about her, it’s never coupled with the feeling of longing that used to come, say, 5 months ago.

I can talk about her without it hurting anymore.
When I used to talk about my ex, it was usually in the effort of venting a frustration or other emotional angst to somebody—anybody—who would listen. But today, I can talk frankly about the things we were. I can analyze my thoughts and feelings about who and what we were to each other from a less emotionally charged place, and seeing those things objectively has a measured amount of “huh, holy shit. We were kinda just going through the motions, weren’t we?” And THAT was a wildly enlightening experience to have.

I was able to go through and delete pictures of us from my personal libraries.
I remember one night, I went through the over 8,000 pictures in my phone and indiscriminately deleted pictures of her and us. And there were A LOT. But it wasn’t a “I’m forcing myself to let go of this person” type situation. I legitimately just went through my phone and was like, “You know, this is no longer something I need to have visual records of anymore.” It was the same with my social media accounts. Well, for the most part. If it was more of a hassle than it was a benefit, then I haven’t made the effort to take them down, lol. There are a LOT of tagged photos on Facebook that I really just don’t have the time or energy to spend deleting.

Perhaps most importantly, I was able to feel love for someone else.
I think a big reason I was never really interested in “rebounding” like people insisted I needed to was because I spent a decade of my life jointly associating physical intimacy with emotional intimacy. Tash Palmer has a lyric in a song called “On The Fence,” where she says “See my soul before you see my skin.” And that’s sort of how I feel, too. For some reason, this is an especially difficult concept to grasp for men, in particular. Almost unequivocally, my male friends have told me that I should “get out there and get laid” as a form of recovery. Often, it was hard for them to grasp that I was very disinterested in something like that. I think it was because I spent a decade of my life being physically intimate with only one person, so my mental association between sex and love are sort of inseparable. I don’t really find myself sexually attracted to people if I’m not first emotionally attracted to them. That being said, I recently found myself very emotionally attracted to someone. And that emotional attraction escalated to physical attraction, which escalated to the first physical intimacy in which I’d engaged since December of last year (which was almost a full year). I loved this person. And there was a time where I didn’t think I had the capacity to feel that way about any one else ever again.

Conclusion:
Truly, the experience of moving through heartbreak is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s one of the most taxing things I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing in my short life thus far, but it’s also something I wouldn’t trade back for the relationship I once had. This whole experience has made me a stronger person, a wiser lover, and has equipped me to be a better friend. When I was heartbroken and lost, close friends were there to catch me as I fell. And someday, a close friend of mine will be heartbroken and lost—and I will be there to support them through the harrowing saga that is heartbreak. Thanks for reading.

Navigating Heartbreak Series 4/5: The First Crush

It’s been a tiny bit over 7 months since my girlfriend of 9 years broke up with me. In that time, I’ve done my best to work on myself. I’ve learned what it means to be whole on my own—not reliant on another person to feel complete. It hasn’t always been easy. In fact, I would say that it mostly hasn’t been easy. But I made it. And I wanted to share the most encouraging development in this journey thus far with you: I think I have my very first crush since my ex left.

I don’t know if anything will happen with this girl. Though I would consider us friends, I would be pretty shocked if it evolved much past that. Even though I like her a lot, I sort of feel like…she’s out of my league? Maybe I’m just being insecure. She’s like, intimidatingly cute. Not in the sense that she’s unapproachable by any sense of the word—she’s SUPER approachable. I just think I’m intimidated by the prospect of non-reciprocity; she might not be interested in me the way I am interested in her; she might not even be looking to be involved with anyone at all; she might already be involved with somebody, and that fact has yet to come up in conversation. And I’m afraid that if I tell her how I feel about her, it’ll freak her out and screw up the friendship we’ve developed in such a short period of time. The list of unknowns that I should probably just simply ask her about are what intimidate me. But that’s all sort of adjacent to the point that I really want to focus on, here: I have a crush on a girl.

Just that fact alone is a very welcome reprieve from the exponential gravity that has been yanking at my soul for most of this year. It’s not even necessarily about this girl in specific, but the very idea that I am still capable of crushing at all that excites me so. Of course, that doesn’t lessen the fact that I have this huge, insurmountable crush on this specific girl right now, lol. But that sort of insurmountable is far better than the insurmountable dread I was feeling in January. So I’m going to try and allow myself to feel this crush without thinking about the implications too much. Because it feels good. It feels nice. It reminds me that I’m going to be okay—no, that I am okay.

And it reminds me that I actually mean that this time. I’m not just saying it to try and convince myself of it.

I have a crush. Oh boy, do I have a crush. Lol.

Continue to Navigating Heartbreak Series 5/5 »

Navigating Heartbreak Series 3/5: Embracing Sadness

In January, the girl I love broke up with me after 9 years of being together. We had a loving, comfortable, understanding relationship. But she found out something about herself that she needed to explore, so I had to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, to date: I lovingly and understandingly stepped out of the way as she broke up with me to pursue another romantic relationship. Holy fuck, does that hurt a lot to type right now, but I know that it was the right thing to do. This person who means the world to me is self-actualizing, and I want her to love and know herself the way I love and know her. It would be unfathomably selfish of me not to want that for her. In short: I am happy for her, but sad for me.

In fact, I’ve never been sadder than I have been in the last 3 1/2 months of my life. I’ve run the gamut of the 5 Stages of Grief, and I still find myself bouncing back and forth between them daily. The sadness feels insurmountable, sometimes. Lately, I’ve been leaning pretty heavily on friends and some family to help me through it, and boy are they a godsend. Particularly the ones who have told me that it’s okay to be sad.

“If you weren’t sad/anxious about this, you would be the weirdest person ever. You’re physically going through withdrawal and a dramatic lifestyle change. But imagine this process without those emotions for a moment as though they don’t exist. [Is there anything] unhealthy about how you’re dealing with it?
—A text from one of my closest friends

When I got to thinking about it, no. There hasn’t been an unhealthy thing that I’ve done throughout this whole arduous process. I might have done a little bit of social media stalking early on, but once I realized that it was doing nothing but hurt me, I quickly staged a self-intervention and logged out of all accounts that I could follow her on. Other than that, I’ve grieved with close friends, I’ve started this blog, I’ve written in a journal, I’ve written music, I’ve buried myself in hobbies… I’ve done basically everything to keep myself occupied, because the biggest obstacle for me is time. Time is the fucking worst. I know I definitely want to be her friend in time, but I know that the only way for that to be a reality is for me to get over this sadness. I can’t be her friend if every one of our interactions is emotionally volatile like they have been, lately. And that makes me even sadder.

Spoiler alert: no one likes being sad. But I’ve come to accept that sadness is okay. That doesn’t mean I like it, by any stretch of the word. But sadness means I’m still capable of happiness. In her TED Talk about vulnerability, Brené Brown says:

We live in a vulnerable world. And one of the ways we deal with it is we numb vulnerability...the problem is: you can not selectively numb emotion...you can't say 'here's the bad stuff...I don't want to feel these...'

You can't numb those hard feelings without numbing the other emotions...when we numb [negative emotions], we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness...and then we are miserable...

You are imperfect and you are wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging....practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror when we're wondering 'can I love you this much? Can I believe in this as passionately?' ...Stop catastrophizing what might happen and say 'I'm just so grateful.' Because to feel this vulnerable means I am alive.

—Brené Brown, “The power of vulnerability” TED Talk

SPOILER ALERT FOR INSIDE OUT

If you haven’t seen Inside Out yet, you should definitely give it a watch. The point the movie makes is that sadness is integral to our experience as human beings, and it is a healthy, expected response to trauma. Being sad sucks. But it’s normal. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for being sad over something. Allow yourself to be sad. It’s all a part of the process of healing. Most of all, don’t be afraid of sadness. Because if you try to avoid the possibility of being sad, you also avoid the possibility of being truly happy.

And we all deserve to be truly happy.

Continue to Navigating Heartbreak Series 4/5 »

Navigating Heartbreak Series 2/5: Behind the lyrics of "HAPPY4U"

One of the most frequent pieces of advice I’ve gotten throughout this heartbreak of mine is to bury myself in things I’d always wanted to do. To try and think past the hurt and remember what I liked to do before it all happened. Well, at the center of my person is a writer, artist, and musician. I’ve always wanted to write a song, perform it, and do something with it. So when NPR announced their annual Tiny Desk Contest, I knew I wanted to enter it with a guitarist friend of mine. I’d known that he had a chord progression he was fond of, so I wrote some lyrics over the course of a few days, hit him up on a Thursday, we had our first rehearsal on that Saturday, and did our first screen test that night. Fast forward to last night (the following Wednesday), and we put the above video together with the help of a videographer friend. You can see our submission here.

Shit, now that I read that back to myself, we created a whole-ass song in under two weeks. I wonder if that’s par for the course in the music industry? Idk. All I know right now is that art—and writing, in particular—has always brought me catharsis. This song has brought exactly that for me when I needed it most. Anyway, what I wanted to do was explain how I came up with the lyrics for the song—if for nobody else, just so that I can write it down and see it unfold in front of my own eyes. Here goes:

Happy For You
By Interstate Eighty
Lyrics by Alex Basa
Guitar by Chris Clark

Verse
Hi there, stranger! Are you broken just like me?
Have you come into this building seeking heartbreak therapy?
Did the man down in the lobby greet you using your last name?
Did he know which floor you needed and say “Elevator A”?

People only come here when the sadness is too much.
Do you wake into your nightmares? Does your life fucking suck?
I’m sorry if that sounded forward, or if it sounded rude.
I don’t know how to flirt with girls; can I try with you?

Wait! Don’t go. I know that’s why you’re here,
But like the last girl that I loved, you’ll be leaving me in tears.
Now, I’m alone. Just like every other day.
And since the doctor picked you first, I have something to say:

Unsurprisingly, the inspiration for this song actually came from a therapy session I had. In fact, the whole song takes place in the therapists’ waiting room on the 10th floor of 388 Pine Street in San Francisco. Maybe you missed it, but there’s a bit of angst hidden in the lyrics of the song. I remember walking into the building before one of my sessions, and the man behind the counter in the lobby actually recognized me, knew which floor to send me to, and told me the elevator to take. At that point, I knew that meant I had gone through enough therapy sessions that reception was able to pick me out in a crowd. I wouldn’t say I was embarrassed, per se, but it definitely did not make me feel super great. It’s a good thing I was headed into a therapy session…

The literal elevator that inspired that lyric.

Anyway, I was sitting alone in suite 1010 when this girl walked in. She flipped her therapist’s switch—which was right next to the switch I’d flipped when I came in—and sat down in a chair in the opposite corner of the room, as far away from me as the 8’x8’ box would allow. She was actually kinda cute, and my love-starved brain’s first thought was “I wonder if we’d be compatible? I should say hello.” My immediate next thought was “what the fuck is your problem, dude? She’s in a therapist’s office trying to get over something. She does not want to be flirted with right now.”

Eventually, her therapist came to the door to let her into the second area (where all the therapists’ offices are), and I was left sitting in my shame and sorrow. What a fucking dumb, pathetic, jackass thought that was—no matter how brief.

Chorus
I’m happy for you.
So damn happy for you.
Really I’m happy for you.
Sad for me, but happy for you.

Okay, fun fact: the chorus (and title of the song) sort of started out as a snide tweet I made when Justin Bieber announced his engagement to Hailey Baldwin some time ago. I joked that I was eagerly awaiting Selena Gomez’s future hit-song “Happy For You.”

Obviously, that song never came, but I really liked the idea behind a melancholy song that wrestled with the complex emotional state of being happy for someone, but sad for yourself. Little did I know that I’d be using it for myself in a little under a year, lol.

Verse
I open my phone getting sadder as I swipe.
I didn’t pay them so that means this app paid for my life.
They’re cashing in on carnal cravings: a parasitic plot.
Dating apps don’t work because I’m cute, but I’m not hot.

I still feel the ghost of the ring I used to wear:
A poignant, persistent reminder that you aren’t there.
And my entire life is something that I would have shared.
I fucking hate the fact that I will always fucking care.

No. That’s not true. It’s not something that I mean.
Any vitriolic lamentations I say are obscene.
In the future when the pain subsides I hope we reconvene,
And as your friend I hope you know this one important thing:

Chorus
I’m happy for you.
So damn happy for you.
Really, I’m happy for you.
Sad for me, but happy for you.

This verse is inspired by something that I’ve come to rue since having downloaded them at all: dating apps. I originally downloaded them to feel like I had some control over my situation, but they were only fun for all of like, 20 minutes. The ensuing days (and weeks) of using them just began to gross me out more and more as one point became all the more salient to me: I’m a kid in a candy store with the wrong kind of currency.

Even the most optimized dating apps cater to a single, primal human desire, and that’s finding an attractive mate. Nobody really gives a fuck how much you like dogs, how funny you think The Office is, or how sarcasm is “like, totally your second language.” If you’re not a 9/10 in the face+body department, you might as well be swiping right and left on paint swatches at your local hardware store. Me? Conservatively, I’m probably like a 7/10 on looks alone. Hence the lyric: “dating apps don’t work because I’m cute, but I’m not hot.”

Have you ever heard the phrase “if you’re not paying for it, then you’re the product”? A really good, sickening example is how nightclubs will charge guys a cover fee, but let girls in for free. Dating apps are a lot like that. My female friend told me about how she was getting certain “complimentary” perks from the “premium versions” of certain apps—”trial periods” of the full service the apps provided. That shit never happened for me, lol. And even if you exclude that bias, when you realize that these apps are making money by means of a superficial swiping gallery, it’s just a little bit depressing. I realized that every time I sized up a potential mate, I would read her short bio (if she had one), and I would compare that brief snippet of information to the 9 year long relationship that I’d just been forced to exit. Naturally, there can be absolutely no comparison, and every “candidate” just made me realize more and more that none of them were the person I really wanted.

Which brings me to the second stanza in the second verse—and perhaps the one that hurts me most day to day: “I still feel the ghost of the ring I used to wear: a poignant persistent reminder that you aren’t there.”

I’ve worn a “promise” ring on my left hand for the last nine years. Ask anyone who frequently makes use of a cell phone, or watch, or any sort of everyday-carry object how they feel when that object isn’t on their person. They’ll tell you that they feel “naked” without it. When you don’t feel that object, there’s a slight moment of panic as your body instinctively searches for its familiarity. Multiple times a day, I find myself feeling like something is missing from my left ring finger—because something is. And every time I do that unconscious freakout, there’s no sense of relief that follows it. All that follows is the reminder that she’s gone.

It’s frustrating beyond measure when your own body betrays you like that. I want to cut off my finger to teach it a lesson for constantly telling me what I don’t want to hear. Sometimes that frustration ratchets up to anger and resent that extends in all directions, including at the woman I love so dearly. Fortunately, I’m pretty good at reeling back those visceral emotions when they flare up. I’ve tried to approach this whole experience with love and understanding, because I do care about her and want her to be happy. I’ve supported her through undergrad, grad school, and everything few and far between. I want to support her, now. But it hurts. There’s no way I can just jump into caring about her solely platonically right now. Maybe in time. But it’s the time that kills me.

Verse
It’s not me, the one you love, and that I must accept.
But darling, over you, I’ve wept.
The songs that I love paint a portrait of what we were
And I can’t listen to them without crying, that’s for sure.

Maybe this is fine. Maybe it’s what we needed.
But I regret the day you left and that I had conceded.
There’s not a thing that I won’t do for you and that you know.
I guess that means right now, I’ve gotta let you go.

So I’ll be fine in time, don’t mind the way I write these rhymes.
Out of this hole you’ve dug for me I’m certain I will climb.
I even might forgive the piece of shit that did me wrong,
But for now, trust the words of this melancholy song:

Chorus
I’m happy for you.
So damn happy for you.
Really, I’m happy for you.
Sad for me, but happy for you.

Solo section

I feel like this section needs the least amount of context to understand well. She loves someone else. I think the angriest line in the entire song is in this verse, though: “I even might forgive the piece of shit that did me wrong.”

So, I like to refer to my performance as “the character,” here. Because I’m not as resentful as I’m portraying in the song. Yes, that was definitely a thought that I had. The person I got left for 100% flirted with, courted, and eventually crossed a bunch of physical boundaries with my then-girlfriend, knowing that she was in a committed relationship. And you can argue that it takes two to tango, but the actual situation is a bit more complicated than that. What I’m trying to get at here is that…

I don’t know. Fuck it. Maybe I am that angry. I’m allowed to be angry. But I’ve never acted on that anger in an unhealthy way. I’ve never been prohibitive or nasty towards the two of them. Maybe the nastiest thing I’ve done is write that line into the song. But you know what, I don’t owe either of them any more courtesy than I’ve already given them. I’m reclaiming my life and sanity in the only way I know how: by making art.

Wow, okay, that was a bit of a tangential rant…. Anyway, the last thing that I wanted to talk about is how we chose to end the song. Chris and I went back and forth between abruptly ending it in the middle of the chord progression (symbolizing the jarring and abrupt way my relationship ended, from my perspective), ending it on the last chord in a nice, open resolve (symbolizing the end of this chapter in my life), and ending it on the fade out—which is what we went with. We chose this way because we felt that it represented the most optimistic truth of this entire sad song: just like the chords of the song, life goes on, and so will I.

Anyway, thanks for listening. A few people have reached out and told me a bunch of really nice things about the song—the most touching for me is that people have said they were able to relate to the lyrics. They say misery needs company, and if we were able to give someone the chance to commiserate with us, then we accomplished our goal of making some great art.

In short, if the song made you feel good, then I’m happy 4 u <3

Continue to Navigating Heartbreak Series 3/5 »

Oh, we called ourselves “Interstate Eighty” because both of us live along that interstate. That’s pretty much it.

Navigating Heartbreak Series 1/5: The Surfer Analogy

I am not a surfer, but as a writer, I have an undying love for analogies, and one of my friends recently introduced me to an analogy that I feel perfectly encapsulates the experience of going through a heartbreak—something that I am currently going through at 26 years old. For context, my recent breakup was a relationship that was 9 years long, with someone who I’ve known for about half my life. There was no vitriol or bad blood between us. In fact, we had a very steady, healthy relationship. For me, its end was a literal night-and-day surprise—but that’s a blog post for another time. Some day, when it hurts less, I know we will be friends again. Anyway, onto the analogy…

Here, the obstruction happens to be the shallows of a shoreline. Pictured on the right is what’s called a “beach break.”

First, it helps to understand what a "breaking wave" is: for lay-people—like myself—it's what we normally think of when someone says "wave," even though “wave” is a general term to describe all types of water currents. A “breaking wave” is that beautiful, crescent-shaped tunnel of water that people surf, which is created by an accelerating undercurrent meeting an obstruction, sending the current upwards, and causing the wave to “break” the surface and crest in that iconic fashion. Typically, advanced surfers can recognize several different types of "breaks" just by looking at them, whether they were caused by a reef, the shoreline, or otherwise.

My friend told me that every surfer has experienced falling off their board while riding a break and getting caught in it. Supposedly, the first time it happens, it's a harrowing experience—you're freaking out trying to surface while being tossed around by the current. Eventually, the break passes, you're able to rise above the waterline, and you can take a breath.

But often, another break is right behind you, which crashes over your head, dragging you under once again, restarting the whole horrific experience.

He says going through heartbreak is a lot like getting stuck in a cycle of breaks. Sometimes you'll have a moment to breathe, and you feel like everything will be okay, then the next wave crests over your head and you feel like you're drowning all over again. Rinse, wash, repeat.

But the thing is, eventually—as long as you keep swimming—the waves will wash you ashore. But you have to keep swimming, and never give up. I’m currently (hah—”currently”) doing my best not drown in my own sorrow and misery. I’m burying myself in the love of my friends and family. I’m trying to do the things that I know I used to enjoy. Most importantly, I’m trying. And I’m trying harder than I’ve ever tried to do anything in my life, before.

I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, and I don’t know if there’s a “right” way to do it, but I know there are a bunch of wrong ways to do it; I’m trying my best to wade away from those. I don’t know if what makes me feel good today will still make me feel good tomorrow, but that’s a problem for tomorrow-Alex.

Today-Alex just has to get there.

So for now, I’m channeling my inner-Dory, and I’m going to just keep swimming.

Continue to Navigating Heartbreak Series 2/5 »

You’re headed towards shore, kiddo. All you have to do is make it.

"As a 20-something-year-old male, what's your deal with Taylor Swift?"

I get this question a lot: “how did you become such a big fan of Taylor Swift?”

It’s an interesting question. And I think the answer has a lot of parts. Is it because her music is really catchy? Is it because she’s a master of her own brand presence? Is it because she does a lot of philanthropic stuff? Is it because she puts on an amazing show? Is it because she knows how to write in an extremely relatable manner in which I aspire to achieve someday?

Certainly, yes, to all of the above.

But if I think really hard about it and had to choose one single compelling reason why and how I became such an ardent fan of Taylor Swift—the person, musician, and brand—it’s simply this: someone once told me it wasn’t that cool to be a fan of Taylor Swift.

A picture that my cousin took from her seat at #RepTourSantaClara. If you tell me this isn’t cool, you’re delusional.

If there’s anything you’ll quickly learn about me, it’s that I’m absolutely shameless about who I am as a person. I think that stems from a rebellion against years of awkwardness and insecurity about whether or not I was “cool” and “likable,” as anyone who was once a teenager will tell you was the case. I spent a lot of time trying to fit into a bunch of different social niches, never really finding that I had much longevity in any of them. I tried to unilaterally identify as a bunch of different things at a bunch of different times, and it just made me feel like I never really belonged. So then I tried to identify as “different and unique,” which, as you know, every teenager thinks they are.

It took me some time, but eventually, I stopped trying to identify myself. Ironically, when that happened, I started actually having a personality, and people started identifying me as certain things. When I started to just like things because I liked them (and not because I was socially expected to like certain things), I started to find out that I belonged to a bunch of different social groups in a bunch of different ways—and the ways that I didn’t identify with them did make me unique. Finding out how to be me for me has probably been the most grown-up shit I’ve ever done, to date.

To put it plainly: I don’t give a fuck what you think I should like or why I should like it.

Learning how to not be embarrassed about the things I enjoy was hard. Which is why when the person who introduced me to Taylor Swift fandom shied away from associating with the fandom, I may have taken it as a challenge to everything I stood for at the time—what do you mean it’s not cool to like what you like? Fuck that.

Big reputation, big reputation / ooh, you and me, we got big reputations

I like to think that behind the social rebellion also lies a more noble cause. It got me thinking about how I’m the oldest cousin in a long line of cousins and siblings—many of whom are 20 years younger than I am. It got me thinking about how young kids are bullied out of liking things they like every day. It got me thinking about how conformity to social norms is how young kids develop self-esteem issues, and as the pioneer of my familial generation, I was in a position of responsibility to show them that you didn’t have to be ashamed of liking what you like—Taylor Swift just happened to be the most socially jarring thing I could put at the epicenter of my personality to prove that point. Little did I know how much of a feedback loop I’d gotten myself into.

As the years went on, I found myself not just liking Taylor as an anti-establishment statement (after all, what’s more Punk Rock than liking shit no matter what people say about you?)—I started to realize that I really liked what she did as a person. In short time, I began to consume more and more media about Taylor, and the more I consumed, the more existential I would get about my relationship with the Taylor Swift brand. Like me, she went through rapid changes in identity, always choosing to exist in a place that felt “right” to her. She’s far from perfect, and she knows it, but she’s not ashamed of her flaws and mistakes—choosing instead to grow from them as an artist and person, and wearing that person on her sleeve at all times. Perhaps most admirably, for me: she has been at the center of public scrutiny and attention since she was a teenager—a time where most people would buckle under the social pressure, dissolving into a congealed puddle of shame and self-destruction. Taylor has always (at least outwardly) tried to be true to herself, which aligns perfectly with who I want to be, to this day.

It’s who I want my cousins—and eventually, children—to see me as. Because I never want them to be ashamed of who they are or what they love.

Haters gonna hate, so shake it off.

Conclusion:
I like Taylor Swift because I’m allowed to like Taylor Swift. Despite what tabloids or otherwise would have you believe (get the fuck out of people’s personal lives, you creeps), I genuinely think that Taylor is a terrific person, and that she—like everyone—is growing and learning bit by bit as she goes along; it just happens that she’s doing it on a global stage, a la The Truman Show.

Taylor has done incredible things for people, and whether or not you’re a cold, jaded, unfeeling monster who thinks that it’s all a constant publicity stunt, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s done good and inspired goodness because of it. And like Diane said in Season 1, Episode 12 of Bojack Horseman, “I don't think I believe in deep down. I kind of think all you are is just the things that you do.”

Well, I want to be a fan of Taylor Swift.

This show is written so painfully well.

Paramore has stayed weirdly relatable while growing up

I remember the moment that I realized I was a big Paramore fan. Don’t get me confused when I say that—I want to emphasize the word realize, there. Looking at their full discography and reconciling the dates with what I can remember about myself at the time, I’m pretty sure I onboarded as a fan around 2007-2008 (during the Riot! era), when I was either an 8th grader or a freshman in high school. I just didn’t know how big a fan I truly was until I was in my early college career (around 2011 or so). I was organizing some playlists I’d intended on putting on my new phone, and I’d noticed that I had all three of their albums that they had out at the time. Not only did I have all three of their albums, but I realized I knew the words to pretty much all of their songs.

For 2011-Alex, that was actually pretty abnormal. I didn’t really believe myself to have a “favorite” band, and the only two full-albums I’d ever bought with my own money (which was basically allowance money, but I’ve digressed) up to that point were Sara Bareilles’s Little Voice and Eminem’s Curtain Call (Yes, I realize those are two very different genres of music). Most of the music in my collection was comprised of singles from artists I’d liked here and there, or maybe a few songs from a few albums… But I didn’t know I’d owned three consecutive albums from any band or artist. Sure, my parents probably bought them at the request of either my brother or myself, but it didn’t change the fact that I knew all of their songs. Like I said, as a non-committal to any artist or band (before my introduction to Taylor Swift), that was a pretty big deal to me.

Recently, it got me thinking about my relationship with Paramore, and how—out of every band or artist out there—I’ve always related to their music, no matter how old I was. That also struck me as strange, because—like most people—I went through phases of liking music/musicians. I had an Avenged Sevenfold phase. I had a Disturbed phase. I had an Eminem phase. I had a Frank Sinatra phase. I even had a weird showtunes phase. And while I still listen to all those things intermittently today, none of them has endured as constantly or in as high volume as Paramore has for me. I’ve literally never been disinterested in picking up the “next” Paramore album, whereas I don’t think I’ve even downloaded an Eminem song since Stan.

Hell, I guess you could call me a Paramore stan.

And I think the reason why my interest in Paramore has endured so vehemently over the years is because their music grew up with me, too. A lot of those other artists and genres stay pretty static, in my opinion. There isn’t much change to their music, album to album. But I’ve noticed that Paramore’s lyrics have had a subtle emotional evolution, much like we do as we grow up. So, in this blog post, I wanted to reverse-engineer my fascination with Paramore, and how I related to their music as I grew from a superficial angsty teenager, to a self-actualizing adult with a more complicated fear of the world. That being said, let’s start with where I remember being introduced to Paramore—with Riot!

I’m in the business of misery, let’s take it from the top

So, I guess during the Riot! era, Paramore was seated firmly in the Emo genre. Makes sense when you consider songs like Misery Business, That’s What You Get, and We Are Broken. These are all songs that 14/15 year old Alex resonated with hard. I was just finding out what dating (and getting broken up with) was like, and teenage hormones meant that the thing at the front of my mind was navigating a romantic relationship. Not only that, but being miserable and edgy was so in. Naturally, it felt like Paramore understood that when “nobody else did.”

And it's obvious that you're dying, dying
Just living proof that the camera's lying
And oh, oh open wide
'Cause this is your night, so smile
'Cause you'll go out in style
You'll go out in style

—Fences, from Riot!

Well now I'm told that this is life / And pain is just a simple compromise / So we can get what we want out of it

By 2009, Brand New Eyes had come out, and I was full-swing cringey teenager. I was also the gross PDA-ing type of teenager with my first serious then-girlfriend, with whom I would get into shouting matches on campus daily. So songs like The Only Exception, All I Wanted, and Brick By Boring Brick were staples of my personality by this time. I couldn’t be bothered to be told anything by any figure of authority because I was just too damn good for all that shit, man. And I definitely thought I knew everything important there was to know about life—and life was so hard (good god, can I PLEASE take those years of my life back…).

And the worst part is
Before it gets any better
We're headed for a cliff
And in the free fall I will realize
I'm better off when I hit the bottom

—Turn It Off, from Brand New Eyes

And after all this time I’m still into you

Oh man, 2013… By this time, my teenage angst had evolved into emergent-adult angst. With Paramore, the band’s self-titled album, things were not only beginning to change for me, but for the band, as well. In the four years since Brand New Eyes, Zach and Josh Farro had left the band. In my own life, my three best friends had recently just moved to study at UCLA, Cal Berkeley, and Cal Poly, and my latest then-girlfriend had moved off to study at UC Davis—I was insanely happy and proud of them, yet I was also incredibly sad and lonely. I was still stuck in my little hometown attending community college, feeling like I was stuck in a rut of self-disappointment and self-loathing. I was definitely feeling an indescribable mix of emotions.

Unless you were Paramore.

Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world

—Ain’t It Fun, from Paramore

—Side note, while this album contains two of my favorite songs in Paramore’s discography (Ain’t It Fun and Still Into You), it’s actually my least favorite album of them all. Isn’t that an interesting metaphor for my life at the time?

(Hard times) gonna make you wonder why you even try / (Hard times) gonna take you down and laugh when you cry / (These lives) and I still don't know how I even survive / (Hard times) / (Hard times) / And I gotta get to rock bottom

…Which bring us to the current era, as of this writing: After Laughter. Jeez, what can I say about After Laughter? By 2017, I’d graduated from college and was just getting my first taste of the real world. Honestly, I’m still there, now. But I seriously can not sing enough praise about After Laughter. You can tell that the emotions the band are trying to articulate are much more nuanced and undefinable than they’ve ever been. It’s an apt metaphor for being in your mid-20s, because you haven’t quite figured everything out, but you’re also definitely not a naive kid anymore. Songs like the sonically-upbeat Hard Times are sobered up quickly when you listen to the somber lyrics. Forgiveness is about wanting to forgive someone for hurting you but knowing you don’t have the strength in you to do it. Told You So is about eating humble pie when you realize how wrong you were about something. The entire album is layered in denial and self-destructiveness, but in a way that feels cognizant of itself, as opposed to self-bemoaning in the way a bratty teenager would be.

After Laughter is peppered liberally with dancey-vibey tracks that take a second or third read to really see underneath. It’s sort of like being aware of your own melancholy while knowing that it bums people out, so you try to put on a smile so as not to bug people with your sadness. You want to Fake Happy for everyone else’s sake, and perhaps also as a bit of performance art because you know you’re supposed to be happy—just like everyone else is, right? I’m 26, currently, as of this writing, and I can say without a doubt that I’m going through the weirdest set of emotions I’ve ever had the displeasure to confront in my life. I know that I’ve just recently exited life’s “tutorial” stage. I know that I’ve barely lived a quarter of my life expectancy. I know that this is still a relatively easy section of what my life will be. But knowing all of those things doesn’t stop me from feeling sad, or heartbroken, or hopeless, or incompetent. And yet, I feel compelled to fake being happy because I think it’s what I “should be.” I try to be appreciative of everything that’s going well in my life, but the insecurities just scream louder than I can quiet them.

And I think Paramore gets that.

Reality will break your heart
Survival will not be the hardest part
It's keeping all your hopes alive
All the rest of you has died
So let it break your heart

Hold onto hope if you got it
Don't let it go for nobody
Hold onto hope if you got it
Don't let it go for nobody
And they say that dreaming is free
But I wouldn't care what it cost me

—26, from After Laughter

Conclusion:
It’s been an interesting decade-and-some-change being a fan of Paramore. While most artists I’ve listened to over the span of the same time have seldom strayed far from the beaten path, it feels like Paramore has had an uncanny ability to gracefully wander to and fro, exploring different musical stylings while still speaking true to the relatable experience of being miserable—but also growing up to realize that there’s complexity to that misery. It’s not just vitriol and “you don’t understand me, mom!!”

I think being aware of sadness and allowing yourself to be with it for a time is really the only way of getting past it. Denying yourself a moment to grieve over whatever you need to grieve over is a fast track to becoming angry and resentful over things that are out of your control, and that can lead to hopelessness or worse. I’ve experienced a unique catharsis listening to Paramore at different stages of my life, and I think it’s because Paramore has an intimate understanding of what it’s like to be sad at different stages of growing up.

Maybe the most poignant example of this is a tweet Haley Williams sent on July 20th of 2017—a date which likely haunts fans of Linkin Park.

Dear 20 year old me,

I'm 100% certain that this is a completely unoriginal thing I'm doing, but fuck it. I want to document my musings as a 25-year-old junior writer in the advertising industry retrospectively looking back at his life as a college student, for posterity. Here's what I wish I could say to myself, and maybe if it resonates with someone else in my previous current situation (well that's just unnecessary wording, Alex), then all the better. Here goes:

1) You're just starting at art school after fucking around at Community College for two years. 

It's going to be like nothing you'd imagined it would be. Basically nothing can prepare you for what to expect, because nothing like it has previously existed in your academic history. It's weird. Esoteric. Eclectic. Words you'll come to use far too often to describe your creative after having just learned the difference between the two of them. It's going to be really fuckin' tough in the future. In fact, there will be a few times that you're going to question whether or not you made a foolhardy, naive decision by going to art school. It's expensive. You'll be working part-to-full time, close to minimum wage for a lot of the duration you're in college. You'll have four different jobs—some of them overlapping each other. Sleep? What the fuck is that? But hey, that's part of the process. I'm not saying it's going to be dreadfully impossible, but I'm also not saying that you'll be able to just coast the way you did in high school/junior college. But that brings me to my next point, which is a little bit less scary...

2) You're going to want to do your homework.

And I don't mean that in an imperative connotation, either. I mean it literally. Your first few classes are going to be abso-fucking-lutely fascinating. Roger will try to scare you with the work volume, but you'll grin at it. It'll excite you, because you knew that most every academic endeavor beforehand was a grind—but this one will be an adventure. You'll stay up until two or three in the morning doing homework, sometimes. One night writing 10 different sets of headline, subheadline, and tagline copy. Another night trying to figure out why the absolute fuck bezier curves are so goddamn confusing. Trust me. You'll get the hang of them because you'll make it through that confusion. Your unyielding curiosity and desire to know things will allow you to pick up the software quicker than most. You'll attribute that skill to all the puzzle-solving video games you played previously. You still attribute your quick learning to that, now. 

3) There will be classes you're going to think are completely fucking stupid. But there are enough classes that will inspire you like never before.

This probably has something to do with the degree plan and the teachers along that path. BFA Advertising samples from a LOT of the departments that the school offers. You'll have to paint, and you'll be fucking miserable at it. You'll barely pass because you paint like a fuckin' third grader. That's okay. That class was full of fine-arts students specifically going to that school for painting. You'll learn and understand the color theory—that's the important part. In fact, one of your final paintings will be a Zelda mandala that you'll hang in your hallway for years to come. It's still there now.

By the way, you suck ASS at staying up to date with online classes. Pretty much skip them if you can. You failed one because you always forgot about it. That's okay. No one cares in the industry. Designing Careers will probably be the stupidest class you'll take. It's primarily meant for kids who went from high school to college with no work experience in between. The teacher will try to teach you proper business etiquette that you'll already have plenty of experience in as someone who's been in the workforce for a few years at that point in time. Ironically, you'll fall asleep in this class a bunch of times, though.

As for classes you'll love, they'll be some of the most labor-intensive classes you'll be in. But you'll learn so damn much. Again, that's the important part. In fact...

3) Don't stop learning when you leave school.

That's what'll separate you from the do-nothings who just went to art school because they had to choose college, get a job, or get kicked out. So they chose art school thinking it'd be the easiest option. Realistically, because the advertising department's curriculum is spread about so thinly across the other departments, you'll find yourself in a serious jack-of-many-trades situation. You're going to have to master them on your own. It's worth the extra time spent, because you'll be able to do things at a higher caliber than some others will. That'll separate you from the rest of the pack down the line.

4) It's going to be fucking expensive.

And I'm not talking just tuition. You're going to buy a new laptop because your old one won't be able to hang and will shit out on you. You'll need at least 16gb of RAM. You're going to buy your first DSLR, and you'll fall in love with it. But that'll lead you to bigger and more expensive lenses. A hot-shoe flash unit. A tripod. A dozen other extra parts (and still accumulating). Then, photography will lead you into video. You'll buy the video editing software you use because you like it so much. You'll use that thing throughout the rest of your career. But it's not cheap. You'll buy off-camera sound. You'll have to buy paints, markers, sketch books, course books, EVERYTHING. It'll be totally fucking nuts. But creativity is an expensive endeavor. That never changes. But everything you acquire will add to your greater successes later. 

5) You're going to feel like you're doing absolutely nothing sometimes.

You're going to get senioritis REALLY early. I'm talking, like, two years before you graduate. And it's going to suck, because that whole time, you're going to dread the fact that you'll win zero awards, and you'll start to feel like just one of the other indistinguishable graduates. Just keep plugging along, kid. Because...

6) Things take forever to happen, but when they DO happen, they happen at breakneck speeds.

You won't win shit until your last semester of school. In fact, in your last semester, you'll have a teacher convince you to switch your whole game plan (he did you a favor, trust me). You'll spend nearly four and half years studying to be a designer. You'll learn how to use the Adobe Creative Suite. You'll learn how to Photoshop better than most kids your age. You'll shoot in camera RAW and have a few paying side gigs before you leave. You'll work as a graphic designer. And you'll hate it. It'll make you question your abilities. But that might be for the better.

Mark Edwards will discover you, and question why the ever living fuck you ever thought you should market yourself as a designer. Well, yeah, Mark. I mean, I've always known I was a writer. But I wanted to learn something I didn't know.

No, you're a writer. He'll tell you.

He'll convince you to rebrand yourself as a writer—which is 100% your strongest skill. You'll rework your brand identity and portfolio to reflect that. You'll win an award based on a copy-driven animation you did (four and a half years in design paid off on that), and you'll land an internship as a writer where you'll get live work put out into the world. On the day of your graduation ceremony (which won't technically be your actual graduation), you'll get a job offer as an intern at Epsilon—an agency down the street from the advertising building...as a writer. They'll hire you after the internship. And then you'll write some stupid blog to yourself before you've been out of college for a year.

7) You're going to be 100% less certain about what you want to do after getting your first job in the industry you so lusted after during your whole tenure at art school.

After learning so much, accumulating so much gear, having so many different types of clients for so many different types of projects, you're going to have absolutely no fucking idea where you want to be in ten years. At the beginning of your college career, you'd have told anyone who'd listen that you were going to become an art director at an ad agency (as if you even understood what the fuck an art director was when you were in school). But now that you're a writer at an ad agency with a fucking stupidly nonsensical portfolio full of design and video and writing...you have no fucking clue what you want to do anymore. But that's only because everything you've done has culminated into this intensely creative, jack-of-many-trades, master-of-most of them that the entire spectrum of creativity will be an option for you. 

And you'll be as impatient as you were to figure it out as you were when you were in college.

But trust me, I'll figure it out. It hasn't even been a year since I graduated. It only takes a moment to make six months feel like it breezed by. Don't be so excited to grow up, kid. Things will happen, and you'll happen with them. Just be patient.

FUCK YOU. PAY ME.

I know that right now, I'm a student. I know that right now, I've got shit to show for what I can do. I know that right now, most of my work is student work. But would you prospect an electrician? Would you prospect a doctor? A lawyer? This will become more relevant to me one day. But for now, this is good to keep in mind.

Maybe people think that if you went to art school, you don't understand money?

Our speaker at the March 2011 San Francisco, CreativeMornings (www.creativemornings.com) was Mike Monteiro, Design Director, and co-founder of Mule Design Studio (www.muledesign.com). This event took place on March 25, 2011 and was sponsored by Happy Cog and Typekit (who also hosted the event at their office in the Mission). Mike's book "Design is a Job" is available from A Book Apart (www.abookapart.com/products/design-is-a-job) A big giant thank you to Chris Whitmore (www.whitmoreprod.com) for offering to shoot and edit the video. Photos were graciously provided by Rawle Anders (twitter.com/rawle42). The San Francisco chapter of Creative Mornings is run by Greg Storey (twitter.com/​brilliantcrank). Follow us on Twitter at twitter.com/​SanFrancisco_CM