I have returned to the easy world of Barron's textbook for my introduction to "simple machines." Well, actually it's my re-introduction, because I first learned about this subject in seventh grade, in Mr. Cinkosky's general science class. That was 40 years ago. I am re-learning things about pulleys and levers and mechanical advantage and efficiency. None of these things has changed in 40 years. In fact, none of those things has changed in more than 2500 years. My "History of Science and Technology" book informs me that pulleys and other such simple machines were invented as early as the ancient Greek era if not even earlier by the Assyrians. And humans used levers in prehistoric times. They just didn't have Barron's "Physics Made Easy" to tell them how they worked.

As Barron's helpfully informs me, much of the hardware which surrounds me, from doorknobs to window blinds to pencil sharpeners to corkscrews, are simple machines which multiply my effort in order to get things done. "Without thinking about it," writes the author, "everybody uses a hundred simple machines everyday." As well as this complex one through which you are reading this. But the crank that turns this computer is metaphorical, not physical. It's all about work.

I live in an area where excessive work is not only not frowned upon, it is celebrated. Ever since I arrived here and discovered the urban work ethic, I have striven to equal it, since I don't want to feel out of touch or do less than the workers surrounding me. In fact, at first I wanted to get some fake cigarettes so I would look like I was smoking, since so many people around me smoked. But I came to my senses about that. Most of my co-workers smoke. Smoking is a sign that you work so hard and are under such pressure (or even danger) that you don't have time to think or care about your health, and you need that fleeting moment of pleasure and relaxation, like soldiers on the front line.

Working too hard is a badge of honor. I have long since gotten used to people describing their lives around here: it's hectic and crazy. These are not exceptional moments in those lives; they are the standard. In fact, if your life isn't hectic or crazy or overscheduled, there's something wrong with you. You are a slacker. So I have always thought that I don't do enough. My job is part-time (25 hours a week) but I go home and do more art and writing afterward, so it might add up to a proper 40-hour week. A real week's work in this area is over 60 hours, up until 80 hours or even more. Go, go, go! Be lucky you still have a job, since someone in India will do those 60 to 80 hours for half your pay.

I hear the same work ethic coming from scientists. They often talk about their "insane" hours or their all-night toil on research, writing, or experiments. They are under constant pressure to publish papers. They toil on tedious grant proposals and prepare lectures and correct exams. But in the case of scientists, it isn't for the money or the prestige. They say they work those insane hours because they love it, that their enthusiasm and fascination with the scientific quest drives them. Wow, I wouldn't work 80 hours a week on anything, even if I loved it. I guess I really must be a slacker. They think artists are privileged slackers anyway, because we play with paint and colors like children. It isn't, y'know, real work.

So I'm learning about the physics that makes most of the tools of my world work, from screwdrivers to mat cutters to palette knives to paintbrushes themselves. I'm trying to get more enthusiastic about this. It's where I am now, and I need to learn it. Those hardworking science pro's are pondering dark matter, cosmic strings, and braneworlds while I'm learning how nutcrackers and gears work. Wow, shovels and pitchforks! It's time to put in the fall bulbs anyway. Intellectual work does not follow the laws of physics and simple machines; it has no efficiency or mechanical advantage. It does, however, take up the hours, the long hours that show that I'm really doing the job.

Posted at 3:23 am | link