A friend of mine decided to make his life as intentional as possible in 2021. Every month he abides by a different resolution, such as reading a book each day or eliminating alcohol or sugar. Whenever he mentioned these goals earlier this year, I would think of my outsized list of kanji essays in need of correction, and I would feel miserable. I knew I should similarly make a monthly resolution about revising them, but even if I did, I was positive they would remain untouched.
By then the list had swelled to about 120, the number increasing whenever I dipped into old essays to borrow material for new ones. I would unexpectedly find a broken link or a stray parenthesis. In other words, my list consisted of unhappy discoveries.
What a daunting task to fix all that. Every so often I would carve out time to revise two essays, only to add three to the list in subsequent weeks.
All that changed in May when my colleague's relative died. I insist on running everything by this one crucial member of Joy o' Kanji, so I couldn't proceed with new publications. But his misfortune became my opportunity. For me, time strangely stopped, much as it has for most of us during the pandemic, and new things became possible.
From mid-May onward I immersed myself in revisions, doing little else, and I came to love this new pursuit, which soon escalated into an obsession. On June 17 I knocked the very last essay off the list! At last my millstone had dissolved. Exhausted, I took a delicious nap. I was free!
All those household chores I'd been putting off because revisions needed to come first? I could now take care of those chores. But did I actually want to? Of course not! Those revisions, I realized, had given me a very convenient excuse for inaction in other areas!
Also, I sensed that I shouldn't just wait to come upon a problem in an essay. It would be ideal to review my inventory of 410 essays, systematically checking a few issues in each.
After giving the house a little love by changing batteries and filters and calling some repairpeople, I returned to revisions with great excitement. (Life is pretty wild for Virgos. Just imagine what it's like for their spouses who have to hear about revision spreadsheets at multiple dinners!)
Intentionally looking for problems was a whole new endeavor, and I enjoyed it even more than I anticipated. However, I learned that 221 essays needed some kind of change! I felt overwhelmed, and I floundered until I came up with a five-part approach that made me methodical yet again.
I love turning into a machine. I'm full of passions, but I function best when I can be organized, goal-oriented, and productive. In the last nine days I've knocked nearly 50 essays off the list.
At this point 172 remain, and that's still a staggering amount. But I know now that I'd rather work on those than take care of any household tasks!
My bereaved colleague officially resumed Joy o' Kanji work today, so I'll start publishing essays regularly on July 9. In the meantime I'll tackle more revisions. And when they cease to be part of my routine, I'll feel a little sad.
Throughout this newsletter I've interspersed screenshots showing the 105 essays I revised in June. Clicking each image will take you to the relevant Essays page on Joy o' Kanji. From there you can go to each Character Home page, reading my comments about the changes. (The notes are sparse; I figure you don't actually need to know about every link I fixed.) If you've bought the essays before or if you have a subscription, you can download new versions for free.
For now here's a different sort of image. Those who pass through this magical door can also become obsessively, maniacally, but productively engaged in some never-ending pursuit:
