There is one year that I kind of avoid in my random searches through my writings: the first year of the third millennium. Or MMI in Roman numerals, which are ever closer to my heart. Whenever I come across this particular year, I pull back as quickly as I can. Not surprisingly, out of two-hundred and eighty addenda I have written so far this year, only three of them extend pieces written in 2001. It is connected to many a painful memory, it goes without saying. Both of my parents passed away that year, and I almost followed them soon afterwards. The breakup of my second marriage is neither here nor there, but my estrangement from the two children from that marriage remains painful to this day. On the opposite side of the spectrum is my early retirement, which was negotiated that year, and my ever-closer union with my beloved. Alas, the decision to move “back” to Istria is also neither here nor there. Returning to my searches, which are not random enough for my taste, I will have to force myself into my writings from that fateful year. Perhaps the best way to do it is to read the entire yearbook from cover to cover. And no skipping. Book XXVI will take a while to plough through, but it strikes me as a worthwhile endeavor. And MMI cannot but make me stronger in the long run. Fingers crossed.

Addendum I (October 19, 2015)

I took yesterday’s idea about revisiting MMI pretty seriously. My No. 1 son is supposed to spend a week with me at the end of this month, and so I planned to finish reading and commenting upon Book XXVI before his arrival. A week would be enough for me, I reckoned. In preparation for this endeavor, I even set up a page in a notebook on my dining table. According to my plans, I could get through two months of my writing in about a day of uninterrupted reading. The notebook page was there to help me follow my progress. This morning ended up in a sour disappointment, though. I did not even reach the middle of January 2001 when I gave up on my idea. And for good. To my amazement, I got annoyed with my own writings quite fast. Actually, I got annoyed with myself rather than my writings as such. Even more, I can hardly recognize myself after so many years. The fickle fellow that I was back then is hardly to my liking right now. Be that as it may, I will have to think of some other trick to revisit MMI in the future. The idea of reading any of my yearbooks from cover to cover is a farfetched one, to be sure. And reading my magnum opus this way is no less than science fiction. Random searches seem to be the only meaningful way forward from now on. Amen.

Addendum II (July 10, 2017)

Well, well. Ever since I turned to copyediting my magnum opus, MMI is coming back every once in a while (“Copyediting Time,” April 9, 2017). As it happens, I just spent five or six hours going through Book XXVI in search of formatting boo-boos of yesteryear. Willy-nilly, my parents’ death was right in front of my eyes. And so was the breakup of my second marriage and separation from my second son and daughter. Try as I might to be oblivious to my writings, I chanced upon many a painful episode in my life. But copyediting proper is still ahead of me at this juncture. Sooner or later, I will have to go through every single sentence in search of embarrassing blunders, such as careless repetitions and awkward turns of phrase. The chore will take me a couple of days at least, and MMI will come alive once again. Whence this addendum, of course. I am steeling myself for return to hell well in advance…