You might be wrestling with a hard trade-off between wanting to do as much good as possible and wanting to fit in well with a respected peer group. Those are both good things to want, and it’s not obvious to me that you can maximize both of them at the same time.
I have some thoughts on your concepts of “special snowflake” and “advice that doesn’t generalize.” I agree that you are not a special snowflake in the sense of being noticeably smarter, more virtuous, more disciplined, whatever than the other nurses on your shift. I’ll concede that you and them have -basically- the same character traits, personalities, and so on. But my guess is that the cluster of memes hanging out in your prefrontal cortex is more attuned to strategy than their meme-clusters—you have a noticeably different set of beliefs and analytical tools. Because strategic meme-clusters are very rare compared to how useful they are, having those meme-clusters makes you “special” in a meaningful way even if in all other respects you are almost identical to your peers. The 1% more-of-the-time that you spend strategizing about how best to accomplish goals can double or triple your effectiveness at many types of tasks, so your small difference in outlook leads to a large difference in what kinds of activities you want to devote your life to. That’s OK.
Similarly, I agree with you that it would be bad if all the nurses in your ward quit to enter politics—someone has to staff the bloody ward, or no amount of political re-jiggering will help. The algorithm that I try to follow when I’m frustrated that the advice I’m giving myself doesn’t seem to generalize is to first check and see if -enough- people are doing Y, and then switch from X to Y if and only if fewer-than-enough people are doing Y. As a trivial example, if forty of my friends and I are playing soccer, we will probably all have more fun if one of us agrees to serve as a referee. I can’t offer the generally applicable advice “You should stop kicking the ball around and start refereeing.” That would be stupid advice; we’d have forty referees and no ball game. But I can say “Hm, what is the optimal number of referees? Probably 2 or 3 people out of the 40 of us. How many people are currently refereeing? Hm, zero. If I switch from playing to refereeing, we will all have more fun. Let me check and see if everyone is making the same leap at the same time and scrambling to put on a striped shirt. No? OK, cool, I’ll referee for a while.” That last long quote is fully generalizable advice—I wish literally everyone would follow it, because then we’d wind up with close to an optimal number of referees.
You might be wrestling with a hard trade-off between wanting to do as much good as possible and wanting to fit in well with a respected peer group. Those are both good things to want, and it’s not obvious to me that you can maximize both of them at the same time.
I have some thoughts on your concepts of “special snowflake” and “advice that doesn’t generalize.” I agree that you are not a special snowflake in the sense of being noticeably smarter, more virtuous, more disciplined, whatever than the other nurses on your shift. I’ll concede that you and them have -basically- the same character traits, personalities, and so on. But my guess is that the cluster of memes hanging out in your prefrontal cortex is more attuned to strategy than their meme-clusters—you have a noticeably different set of beliefs and analytical tools. Because strategic meme-clusters are very rare compared to how useful they are, having those meme-clusters makes you “special” in a meaningful way even if in all other respects you are almost identical to your peers. The 1% more-of-the-time that you spend strategizing about how best to accomplish goals can double or triple your effectiveness at many types of tasks, so your small difference in outlook leads to a large difference in what kinds of activities you want to devote your life to. That’s OK.
Similarly, I agree with you that it would be bad if all the nurses in your ward quit to enter politics—someone has to staff the bloody ward, or no amount of political re-jiggering will help. The algorithm that I try to follow when I’m frustrated that the advice I’m giving myself doesn’t seem to generalize is to first check and see if -enough- people are doing Y, and then switch from X to Y if and only if fewer-than-enough people are doing Y. As a trivial example, if forty of my friends and I are playing soccer, we will probably all have more fun if one of us agrees to serve as a referee. I can’t offer the generally applicable advice “You should stop kicking the ball around and start refereeing.” That would be stupid advice; we’d have forty referees and no ball game. But I can say “Hm, what is the optimal number of referees? Probably 2 or 3 people out of the 40 of us. How many people are currently refereeing? Hm, zero. If I switch from playing to refereeing, we will all have more fun. Let me check and see if everyone is making the same leap at the same time and scrambling to put on a striped shirt. No? OK, cool, I’ll referee for a while.” That last long quote is fully generalizable advice—I wish literally everyone would follow it, because then we’d wind up with close to an optimal number of referees.