med school
Donor dedication ceremony 2010 speech
Mar 8th
Last Friday (3/5), a week after completion of our anatomy course, the first-year class at BCM had our donor dedication ceremony, where we honored the sacrifice of those who donated their bodies for us to learn from. It was touching to hear my classmates speak about their experiences, and it was heartening to see the high attendance numbers–I think we really made our anatomy faculty proud of our solidarity in showing humanity/grace. While I was extremely pressed for time to submit a massive research paper due that same day, I agreed to participate in the ceremony and put together a little speech (copied below). I didn’t entirely stick to the script–I had an unexpected and powerful wave of emotion towards the end, and my focus blurred for a moment as I struggled to recollect my thoughts and hold back tears. I managed to complete the speech, albeit with a bit of hoarseness in my voice, and after I was done speaking and the applause started, I could only describe my emotional state as that of catharsis. I felt…relieved. Released. Grateful that I had been given the opportunity to pay my respects. It wasn’t that I felt…sad, per se…truth be told, I don’t really know how to describe that particular emotional state. Perhaps only those who have been through the anatomy experience will ever really understand it? I’m not sure.
Back when I first discovered the beauty of the screwdriver and its magical ability to take things apart and show me the inner workings of whatever poor piece of technology I tackled, my father gave me a piece of advice: “It doesn’t mean anything to be able to take something apart if you can’t restore it to its original whole.”
I must’ve taken apart just about everything in the house except maybe the kitchen oven and refrigerator (mainly because, well, I didn’t have the guts to stand up to my mom when she said no, and even in my foolish youth I had the wisdom not to do anything that might impede the process of food reaching my mouth). But clocks, radios, an old TV, various computers, and every other random gadget I could get my hands on fell to the sharp blade of my flathead. I was convinced I was going to be an engineer who would invent the flying car one day. At least, that’s what I told myself as I played with my Legos. This was until I took calculus.
Fast forward 15 years, and I find myself not in a machining shop, but in an anatomy lab. Working not with big power tools, but with a scalpel and some green pokey things. And the environment is just…utterly bizarre. We joke around a lot in anatomy lab. Anyone who isn’t in medical school or gone through it simply wouldn’t understand. How is it even possible to attempt humor or liveliness whilst surrounded by the presence of the dead? But in many ways–we have to, or else it would drive us mad. As if the sleep-deprived hours spent cramming the material before the lab closes for exam preparation weren’t enough, if we had to be stone-cold somber the entire time it would be unbearable. So we kid, we jibe, we toss insults back and forth about whose body has the larger penis, and so on.
But even as we complain about the havoc the smell wreaks through our first cranial nerve, even as we dehumanize an entity that is so entirely human, we remain quite aware that these cadavers are our best tool for learning ourselves–that ironically, we must learn from the dead to treat the living. Every time I mistakenly cut something I felt terrible for ruining an opportunity to learn from my donor. I imagine that maybe they’re around in spirit. I imagine that honestly, they’re probably kind of horrified at what their physical beings are subjected to. But I also imagine that somewhere amidst that shock they remember why they agreed to donate. Why they agreed to posthumously teach us for months when they could have been peacefully laid to rest for eternity. Why they agreed to an act of kindness that will ultimately impact thousands of fellow men, women and children as each of us graduates and begins a career of healing.
It bugs me that I can’t follow my father’s advice in this case. I will never be able to restore my cadaver to its whole pristine state. And while I hope this only gives us all more motivation to work to restore our future patients to their happy healthy selves, I can’t help but wish I were able to thank our donors more tangibly. I imagine that perhaps some of our donors spirits are with us now as we acknowledge and pay tribute to their incredible sacrifice. I hope they understand just how thankful we are to have been given such a privileged blessing. I will never know the identity of the person whose body I dissected, beheaded, and in many ways, due to my inexperience, mangled. I will never know whose sister, aunt, mother, grandmother, daughter I cut apart. I can only hope that my belief in a divine power is not unfounded as I pray He deliver our thanks to these generous souls for bringing us first-years to a closer understanding of God and man.
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99% of the people you meet in med school
Jan 25th
A guide to the typical stereotypes you’ll find around in a med school class. This is (mostly) meant to be tongue-in-cheek. 
1. gunner: the most notorious of the stereotypes, the gunner is out to get perfect scores on everything, whether it’s final exams, clinics, or random questions in lecture. The gunner is somehow capable of handling all classes, half a dozen electives, reading all the latest scientific literature, conducting several research projects (and publishing), being an officer in every club, and achieving AOA, but this incredible seemingly-pristine resume is tarnished by the fact that they have no friends (hey, something has to give). Physically, they often weigh in on the extremes of the scale depending on body type–they are either insanely skinny because they don’t have time to eat or they are obese (ironic) because they don’t have time to exercise. No one has been able to verify if gunners ever sleep, but they are easily identifiable by the collective groan that goes around whenever they open their mouth to speak.
2. sniper: the sniper is a gunner who refuses to admit that s/he is a gunner. With their element of surprise, they are far more dangerous in the academic setting than their counterparts, but often equally more tolerable due to their skill at normal (if brief) social interaction. Snipers frolic about in the presence of others, hiding their positively vicious work ethic by appearing to waste time on Facebook/Gchat/etc. like everyone else, but when others are gone, 3 textbooks, 2 BRS books, 563 flash cards, an anatomy atlas, and a 24-pack of ice-cold Red Bull suddenly appear from the void as they focus on their goal of defeating the gunner. Their only tell-tale sign is the slight unhygienic odor that surrounds the hooded sweatshirt they always wear (the sweatshirt becomes their “thing”, serving to hide the fact that they were locked up at school all night studying). Some have evolved to take advantage of the advent of Axe body spray to hide even this last trace, perfecting their ninja-like cover.
3. super-chill dude/dudette (SCD): this is the person who will end up being the doctor that other doctors want to go to. The most valuable people to have around for sanity, SCDs don’t really care too much about school, as they realize classes are not more important than having a life (everyone knows preclinical grades don’t matter anyways). Always up for a good game of frisbee or a solid nap, SCDs are perfectly fine with just passing, and are the most content with life amongst their peers. Interestingly enough, their overall happiness boosts their performance greatly, much to the chagrin of the gunner/sniper, and their cheery smiles often belie the brainiac they can be when given the proper motivation.
4. drama queen/king: this particular breed of med student just doesn’t get that no one cares about their problems. Often purposely putting themselves in situations where freaking out is at least 0.000001% reasonable, they make a big deal about everything from studying to rumors about the opposite sex to how many beers they slammed at the last party. They fail to realize that the typical med student is not the type to tolerate BS, and their selfish behavior perpetuates their life of being single. Usually found chattering to anyone who’ll listen, the drama royalty are pitiable but nonetheless useful, as they are textbook cases of delusional behavior that can be studied in depth merely by asking “How’s life?”
5. boredom incarnate: even God sometimes wonders just how in the world this type of med student managed to live through more than 2 decades without picking up some ability to socialize. Not much is known about this type other than that their ability to put people to sleep by talking is unrivaled–their monotone is practically coma-inducing. It has been postulated that they are the chief source of boring medical school professors, but this has been met with much contention from the Ph.D. camp, who currently defend this title with pride.
6. English (or any non-techie) major: the source of the more physically attractive members of any given class, the non-techie majors are a very valuable addition to the dating pool, and are the most sought after for those who love medicine so much they want to marry a doctor as well as be one. Their eloquence in speaking and shockingly legible handwriting make them stand out when it comes to presentations and notes-sharing, and their earnest approach to and curiosity about science is a refreshing contrast from those who have memorized fact after fact all their lives and are sick and tired of it. Next to the SCD, these are probably the students who have kept the most sanity.
7. dumbass: to the confusion of all, at least one inevitably appears in every med school class. No one really knows how they made it into med school, but whether it was an admissions mistake or traumatic head injury that made them how they are, they are unbelievably stupid. They can’t seem to understand even the simplest concepts even when force-fed the material repeatedly, and everyone fears for their future patients. Fortunately, however, the dumbass usually does not last long, dropping out quickly and sparing everyone their inane questions/comments.
8. ghost: the ghost never comes to class, review sessions, labs, parties…anything, really. Due to their heavy reliance on streamed lectures and notes posted online, no one is quite certain that the ghost even exists except for that one person who they talked to for 30 seconds during orientation; were it not for the presence of their name on the class roster, the school wouldn’t be certain either. Commonly noted in passing conversation with a “Who’s that?”, ghosts gain almost legendary status, with claims ranging from “I hear s/he can watch recorded lectures at 5X speed” to “they sleep 8+ hours a night!”
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Now, it must be noted that most medical students fit into more than one of these categories, giving rise to mixed, sometimes bizarre breeds such as the ghost gunner. While the medical school ecosystem is a complex environment with many subspecies, these 8 categories serve to cover most of what you will find.
Did I forget a stereotype? Got comments about the ones above? Leave your thoughts below!
MSA: pre-med at Stanford
Jan 18th
I figured I might as well start with my home ground. I have to say this upfront: I AM BIASED. I’m basing all this on my own experience and that of other pre-meds I knew–so what can you expect? But trust us a bit, we all went through the stuff that you’re going to go or have already gone through, so it’s not like I’m on this soapbox alone (at least, not entirely). Also, while I did just graduate in 2009, some of what I’m basing this list on could easily have changed, so take it with a grain of salt and check me, alright? Cool. I present to you 10 (fairly) simple guidelines for succeeding as a pre-med at Stanford:
1 – You can take your time deciding. EVERY Stanford freshman class is chock-full of premeds. Seriously. It’s kind of ridiculous–if my memory serves, 70%+ of the people in my class came in expressing at least some interest in pre-med, which is nuts. How many stuck with it? I’m not entirely sure, but I believe ~20% of the class graduated having fulfilled pre-med requirements. A pretty huge drop, huh? And you can bet a bunch of people who graduated pre-med didn’t start that way, so who cares if you came in with no interest in becoming a doctor? Granted, it’s something of an advantage to know earlier simply for planning purposes, so for those of you who came in as die-hard pre-meds…congrats? But for those of you who didn’t, big whoop. ^_^
2 – Hum Bio vs. Bio major. this is a huge debate, but I’ll try to break it down as simple as possible…
Human Biology:
- who does it: people who like the “fuzzy” aspects of science–i.e. really like learning about social issues of science
- declaring: a mountain of paperwork justifying every elective choice you make
- core: 10. freaking. units. per. quarter. At the most popular timeslots of the day. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to schedule stuff around that?
- electives: pretty cool, admittedly. I took a class where I never attended lecture, hw took ~15 min/week, and I crammed for the final in one night. Grade? A-. Oh, and did I mention it took care of two GERs?
- flexibility/speed: what other major at Stanford requires paperwork just to change what electives you’re planning on taking? I feel like Hum Bio people were always complaining about their scheduling issues.
- exemplifying moment: a Hum Bio friend was telling me about how she spent a lecture learned all about the sickle-cell mutation, its rates, its underlying reason for continuously existing, etc. I told her that we learned about it in the bio core too. But in like, 5 minutes, without looking at any of the social impact.
Biology:
- who does it: people who just want to learn the facts, straight-up
- declaring: 1 sheet of paper if you don’t do a track; 2 if you do
- core: 5 units per quarter. I was starting on my elective units by spring quarter sophomore year.
- electives: also pretty cool–especially once you reach out to some of the ones in the medical school
- flexibility/speed: if you don’t do a track, awesome. I mean, come on, it’s only 24 units of electives, you could find a way to finish all that in 2 quarters if you were really so inclined.
- exemplifying moment: realizing that my departmental graduation ceremony ended approximately 2000 hours before the humbio one because we had fewer people. So, literally in the end, we were the ones who didn’t have to spend as much time baking in the hot summer sun. *smug smile*
I admit it: I hate writing papers, I don’t really care that much about the social aspects of science when, quite frankly, you’re bombarded with it in med school anyways, and I despise useless paperwork. Go with bio–I guarantee it will give you less headache. Wanna know something? No one in any med school admissions committee cares what your major is. I have French majors in my class. Professional pianists. People who majored in nothing remotely related to science. And yet, they’re in med school. Shocking? Shouldn’t be. Keep it simple and go with whatever major best suits your needs, because it really doesn’t matter what it is. IMHO, for the Stanford pre-med, it happens to be bio.
3 – Use pass/fail to your advantage. Figure out how many units and what classes you can take pass/fail and play to your strengths. You don’t have to take every pre-med class for a letter grade, and if you’re smart? You won’t. *Most* admissions committees are NOT going to look carefully and care if you took orgo lab pass/fail, so if you know hammering out Chem 36/130 lab reports isn’t going to be your forte, take the “P” on your transcript and just enjoy the reduced stress. This can apply to other classes too. Use the extra time you gain to get some extra research work done, play ping-pong, sleep, or put in some extra studying to make sure you get that A in a class you know you can rock. As long as the fair majority of your transcript is letter grades, you’re set. 
4 – Don’t try to graduate early (unless you have pressing financial motivation). Trust me. After graduating everyone looks back on the golden days of Stanford and if you have any sense of sanity you will wonder why on earth anyone would want to shorten their time in the haven that is the Farm. *wistful smile*
5 – Don’t take classes based (too much) on subject matter you’re going to be learning in med school anyways. You know the ones I’m talking about. Surgery 101. Bio 112/212. Stuff along those lines. People often justify these choices by saying, “Oh, but it’ll be good because once I get into med school the stuff will be like review!” Those people are idiots. I know pre-meds aren’t banking geniuses, but really–why on earth would you pay the insane tuition to take the same subject matter twice? That’s such a waste, you might as well have just applied to med school in another country straight out of high school and saved yourself the time/money/effort. Look–just do your pre-med & major requirements, and then spend the rest of your time exploring other classes! Stanford has an unbeatable array of coursework, so take advantage! Consider a minor in something completely unrelated to bio/chem/humbio. Kick back with some swing in Richard Powers’ social dance classes. If you plan to practice in the U.S., spruce up your medical Spanish. Try Drama 103 and show off that sense of humor with some improv. Or maybe a kickboxing/tennis/fencing/etc. class at Arrillaga? Feeling the wanderlust? Go abroad for a quarter! (or two!) Can’t make that commitment? How about a Bing Overseas Seminar? My point is this: learn to value classes that teach you new skills and/or new ways of thinking about problems, because ultimately, that’s what going to make you stand out as a physician–how you tackle problems. Think Patch Adams.
6 – If you’re going to work, find a job you love doing. If the calling center “calls to you”, great. If it’s dorm staff that floats your boat, make sure you can handle 3AM fire alarms, drunks, and stupid drama with a smile on your face.If you’re going to do research, do it because you’re genuinely interested–not because you want to be the so-called “model applicant”. My buddy David and I spent a good deal of time recruiting/interviewing for our lab back at Stanford, and the people who really stood out did so because of their earnest desire to join and learn, not just gain another line on their resume. Anyone who went through high school has at least some ability to detect BS, and at a place like Stanford, expect those sensors to be extra sharp, at least if you’re planning on joining the Nadeau lab. Now, that said, consider doing your research in the med school. You’d be engaging in clinically relevant work at a leading medical institution, and potentially even get to interact with the patients you work with, which is a huge plus for experience. Also–let’s be real, the rate of publication in a clinical lab can often dominate a basic science lab–although they’re in journals with lower impact factors, your name on any paper is still a pretty sweet reward for the work you put in, AND it looks good to admissions committees. 
7 – Find a good great spectacular advisor/mentor. I can’t stress how incredibly important this is–it can literally make or break you, particularly when it comes to strong recommendations. If your advisor is not working out for you, give some heavy thought to switching. This is YOUR 4 years, and you have the right to be happy with the person overseeing your work. If that means politely changing labs or major advisors, so be it. But do it with class. With grace. With gratitude, because no matter what, your old mentor did spend some time with you, even if it was only to sign off on your forms. If you’re serious about being pre-med, you need to exercise professionalism, and it’s never a good idea to piss anyone off this early in your career.
8 – On that note, don’t forget to be social/nice in general. If you get to med school and you’re the awkward guy/gal who doesn’t really know how to hold a conversation, no one’s going to like you. If you’re obnoxious, no one’s going to even look at you twice. Far from it, we’ll just laugh when you get smacked down on your first rotation because the nurses you pissed off by treating them like crap screw with whatever you’re assigned to do. Sooner or later, you’re going to learn that interpersonal skills are absolutely crucial in the healthcare profession, and in a field where people’s lives are on the line, tempers can flare. Stanford pre-meds have this huge reputation for being high-strung nervous wrecks or timidly emo–please do your part to turn that image around? Be chill and content with life. Honestly, if your desire to be a doctor doesn’t strongly rotate around money, a sense of elitism, familial pressure, or something foolishly superficial…this shouldn’t even be a challenge for you. What you love and are passionate about should NOT heavily stress you out.
9 – Don’t be afraid to ask for help. What do you think doctors do on a daily basis? They consult with other doctors–because another might catch something the first didn’t. In medicine, it’s not about you. It’s about the patient. And when someone’s life is in your hands and you’re not sure about a diagnosis, you sure as hell better not just wing it and make up BS. So don’t develop those bad habits in the first place. Swallow your pride, and go to those often empty office hours. Talk to/e-mail the professor. Work with your TA. Study with your classmates (the people are the best part of Stanford!). Ask your upperclassmen the best quarters to take certain classes. Check in with the pre-med advisors–measure their advice (anyone’s advice, really) with a critical eye, but at least get their opinion to help formulate yours. Make it a point to meet with your major advisor once a quarter. The more you do all this in person, the better. I don’t care if it’s raining outside in the middle of winter quarter and you’d rather be snuggled up in bed reading Harry Potter than bike the 100 feet to the quad. You think anyone’s going to care during your surgery rotation that you want the weekend off? That you’d rather show up at 11 AM for rounds instead of 5 AM? Tough luck–suck it up and just learn to enjoy the small victories in life. I know it sounds harsh, but it’s realistic.
10 – Learn computers. Take some computer science courses. And I don’t mean just fulfilling your GER with CS105. Whether you like it or not, computing is going to be an even bigger part of the medical world than it already is in just a few short years, and the more you learn programming, the more it’s going to make you really stand out as a valuable resource in the medical community. It’s incredible just how much the ability to make a website is considered a novel, incredible thing amongst medical students–truth be told, most of my classmates struggled to connect to the wireless network at school. It’s pathetic how tech un-savvy people in medicine generally are, and it’s the biggest reason the field has stagnated over the past few decades. We need to change that. You need to change that. So step outside what might be your comfort zone and sign up for something beyond CS106A (remember, pass/fail can be your friend!). Tackle the puzzles of algorithmic thinking in CS103. Struggle with code in CS107. Get that group together and rock Bunnyworld in CS108. In the end, you’ll be glad you did. I’ve never regretted pursuing a CS minor–it’s made me a much stronger thinker, and the skills I gained let me do things like code up custom flashcard databases that help me study for anatomy. How nifty is that? Being at the interface of tech and medicine is exactly where you want to be as a pre-med, particularly in the years to come. Going to a school with the #1 CS department in the nation and not taking advantage of it would be like refusing a free 7-course meal cooked by Chef Ramsey.
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So there you go. The 10 most important things to keep in mind as a pre-med at Stanford. Take what you will from my list, but remember that any choice is ultimately yours. I just wanted to pass down what I wish I’d known in my younger years.
Oh, and one last thought–there’s an unspoken rule I forgot to mention: take care of yourself. You can’t take care of another human being if you yourself are in bad shape. Make the time to hit the gym. Go running when the urge hits you. Spend time chatting with friends. If something really bad happens and you need a professional to talk to, the second floor of Vaden allows a certain number of free confidential therapist visits, so make use of those (screw the stigma, I think psychiatrists are awesome–having a trained individual help you wrestle with your thoughts is intense but incredibly relieving).
If you’ve got any questions/comments/concerns, leave ‘em below. Gratzi for reading!
Medical School Admissions (MSA): an introduction
Jan 17th
I’ve had a lot of thoughts on the general practice of how we pick our future doctors, and I figured I might as well use my blog to throw out some thoughts and see what whoever stumbles upon them think. Look forward to new blog posts on everything from the types of people who get in to thoughts on how the process could be more effective!
MHIMS: perfectionism
Jan 7th
While commonly touted as a good thing, the notion of perfectionism is, when analyzed, little more than a source of stress, delusions, and a detrimental sense of failure.
But wait, cry all the self-help coaches, overachievers, and med students. Perfectionism is good! It drives us to achieve, to surpass our limitations, to be all we can be! Without perfectionism, without an obsessive desire to attain the unattainable, we would have no progress, no innovation, no nothing!
Utter nonsense, my dear Type A’s. What you have fallen victim to is simply a misuse of semantics that perfectionists universally delude themselves with to justify their habits/natures. I would know–I was one, and to a certain extent, still am.
As a perfectionist in recovery, I want to first make clear the extremely important distinction between “striving for excellence” and “perfectionism”. Society and vernacular often treat them as one and the same, BUT the latter is the former taken to extremes.
Excellence is a worthy goal–the best goal, really–for not only physicians, but for anyone in any profession. One of my favorite quotes by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is, “If you are called to be a street sweeper, sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, ‘Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.’” And I think this quote does an excellent job of highlighting the key aspect of excellence that distinguishes it from perfection–excellence is possible. Striving for excellence, then, means working toward the realistic goal of attaining maximum performance from one’s capabilities.
This of course raises the question of “How do I know what my capabilities are if I don’t push myself as much as I can?” I have to concede that without motivation/drive, we would all be useless fools–but when we use this question as an excuse to excessively sacrifice other parts of our lives, that is where I draw the line between practicality and delusion.
Unhealthy sacrifice is the major hallmark of perfectionism. At some point in the pursuit of perfectionism in a field/profession/pursuit, we begin to let go of other key priorities and lose the tenet that success is a very holistic term. What do I mean by holistic? I define success as the following (in order of importance):
- being physically fit–if you’re not alive and healthy, the rest is impossible. Duh.
- having strong relationships with others–I think just about every overachieving academic has had at least one awkward moment in their life when they realize that after spending all that time cooped up studying, they don’t know anyone who can write them a strong letter of recommendation. I’m not saying go out and spend all your time networking, but really, if someone has this issue, it’s quite likely they don’t have very many close friends either. Let’s be real, I have classmates who are generally despised, and while everyone generally do a good job of hiding this loathing with Oscar-worthy facades, I have to wonder what they’ll eventually go through. Somewhere along the line, whether it’s through a patient (lawsuit), friend (defriended on Facebook), spouse (divorce), or whoever–their style is going to bite them in the ass.
- hobbies–you need to know what you’re interested in, and develop them. Hobbies are, by definition, activities that give you pleasure. Everyone who has ever become famous achieved fame because they spent their life doing what they loved, whether it’s math, science, music, politics, whatever. So spend time on your hobbies–it could get you famous.
- academic achievement–I hesitate to list this, but it IS important as a medical student. After all, without a reasonably solid knowledge base, how can one be a good doctor? I do, however, list it last. Yeah. Last. Why? Because if you really believe academic accomplishments define you to the point where it takes precedence over your health, relationships, and happiness, you are, in fact, an idiot who will probably die alone with no one to attend your funeral.
All four of these factors are key to success–succeeding in only one or a few is, in fact, being the so-called “failure at life”. Why? Because life isn’t just about being able to run a mile in <10 minutes, or having good friends, or being able to play piano/sing like a diva/drink like a champ, or rocking exams. It’s about finding the right mix of all of these abilities, and striking a holistic balance. What that balance is will be slightly different for everyone, but ignoring or downplaying one part will ultimately degrade your performance in the others. Think about it. People who only do athletics earn the reputation of being dumb jocks. People who party all the time probably aren’t doing so hot in class. People who only do their hobbies are the eccentrics that no one really wants to admit knowing. And people who do nothing but study are the gunners that probably end up gaining weight, burning out, and, statistically speaking, having the highest probability of committing suicide in the healthcare profession.
So again, I stress that balance is key. And it is un. fucking. believable how many excuses people come up with to save themselves the trouble. When’s the last time you heard a variant of “I don’t have enough time” or “I have to study” from someone? Chances are it wasn’t too long ago. And of course, sure, if it’s the week before finals, by all means, study till your brain feels fried–do what you have to do to pass. But realize that’s only a few weeks out of the whole year.
Tips for beating perfectionism:
- Make sure you have a “fuck it” point, and friends who know what it ought to be. You need to realize when you’re taking something too far, and just in case you do get caught up and don’t realize it, you need buds who will come to your rescue and save you from yourself.
- Perfectionism is the inherent belief in a limit–an unattainable one. So instead, believe that you have no limits, and work to back that up. Work hard, put in the best effort you possibly can, and learn to be happy with what you are able to accomplish each day.
- Perfectionism is usually paired with the incredibly annoying habit of being arrogant. As human beings we all want to feel validated, and when we pour time and energy into something we expect others to take notice and applaud our efforts. A bit of bragging never hurt anyone, but when this becomes a habit you just look dumb. Be humble about your accomplishments, and let them speak for you–actually, if things go well, you might find nothing is said at all in the process! (think about it–Nobel Prize winners are only notified by a brief phone call once they’ve been selected)