I’ve started reading a book that’s been recommended to me in the past – The Four-Hour Workweek. It’s essentially a self help-book, one that promises to provide strategies the reader can use to generate free time. It has a bit of a P.T. Barnum flavor but makes a fair amount of sense and verbalizes a lot of my thoughts on the empty busyness of modern life, especially in the workplace.

I do find myself wondering why we (as a society and species) are so prone to being busy? Why do we feel the need to accomplish anything at all? (I’m not sure this is universal; I have heard of various primitive societies that don’t feel the urge to do more than what is needed.)

Evolutionary psychology would probably argue something like the following: we realize that our status is tied to our odds for reproduction and thus passing on our genes, so we seek to elevate our status by earning more and gaining credentials. And we live in an era of incredible opportunities for status improvement. We can work hard at the office and generate our income but in our off hours we can also become more skilled by learning another language, or playing in a band, or taking globe trotting vacations that can impress our fellows. I’m not devoid of this kind of obsessive working—currently I have a part time job, several musical projects, a web site, a passing hobby at drawing and an attempt to learn French going on. It does, at times, seem overwhelming and I find myself wondering why am I doing this? The conventional wisdom is something like, “To be a better person.” but what the fuck does that really mean? Why do I care about being a better person?

So I suspect there is something beneath the surface that pushes me, something wired into the psyche from years of man’s evolution.