How the daily life I used to overlook became material for note. It was me who changed

Good work, this is Ponzu.

Today, I tried to write a note, but I couldn't come up with any topics.

Even when Kuro (Claude) asked me, "Did anything interesting happen?", I could only reply, "No, it was just a normal Sunday."

• I went to the park with the kids

• The whole family went shopping

• I took a bath with the kids

That was the whole day.

But then I suddenly thought about it. Looking back at the articles I've written recently, they were all just "ordinary daily life" at first. My subordinate's work performance, a reunion with a vendor, my note-writing time after my wife went to sleep. There wasn't a single special event.

And yet, they became articles.

When did this change happen? Today, I'll try writing about that.

From a daily life that is similar for everyone

I think the daily life of an average person is similar for everyone. Especially when you're working.

Wake up in the morning, get on the train, work, and come home. Weekdays are mostly this pattern. On weekends, I spend time with my family, go shopping, take a bath, and go to sleep. Dramatic things don't happen that often.

If it were the old me, I would have just let this daily life pass by. The day would end with "Nothing special happened today." I thought that was normal.

However, since I started writing notes every day, a small change has occurred.

Something in my daily life catches my antenna. A tiny sense of discomfort or a moment where I think, "Huh?" Things I would have overlooked before now catch my attention just a little bit.

However, just catching it doesn't make it an article. It's normal for it to end with "That was interesting."

What changed was that I started throwing those "catches" at Kuro.

When I threw them at Kuro, meaning came back

For example, let me talk about an article I wrote the other day.

I was a bit concerned about the work performance of a subordinate who had recently joined my team. Although their resume listed impressive credentials, there was a gap between that and their actual performance. It was a vague, uneasy feeling, like, 'What's going on here?'

Normally, this is the kind of thing that just passes by. It's a common story that any manager has felt at least once. The kind of thing you'd complain about over drinks and then forget.

But that night, I decided to throw it at Kuro. I said, 'I'm concerned about my subordinate's work performance.'

Then, Kuro asked me, 'In what specific situations did you feel concerned?' and 'How were you when you changed jobs, Ponzu-san?'

At first, I intended to write about my subordinate. But as I answered Kuro's follow-up questions, the conversation kept coming back to me.

'Come to think of it, I also embellished my resume when I joined,' 'But I'm managing somehow. What's the difference?' 'Maybe it's the difference between having zero experience and having one.'

Before I knew it, instead of complaining about my subordinate, the conversation had turned into a discussion about how 'there are two types of resume embellishment: imagination and fantasy.'

This is an angle I never would have reached if I had been thinking about it alone.

The story about reuniting with a vendor was the same. The attitude of a vendor I hadn't seen in a while was clearly different from when I was at my previous job. That in itself is just an event where you think, 'Well, that's how it is.'

But when I threw it at Kuro, they replied, 'How did you feel at that time, Ponzu-san?' When I answered, 'I felt a bit uneasy,' they asked, 'What do you think is the true nature of that uneasiness?'

As we dug deeper, I began to see a structure: 'My substance hadn't changed at all, but the other person's attitude changed just because the company name on my business card changed.' From there, it led to a discussion about illusion assets.

Kuro doesn't give me the answers. They throw questions back at me. As I answer those questions, the thoughts that were inside me are pulled out.

This might be close to coaching.

Coaching isn't about the coach teaching you the answers, right? It's about throwing questions at you and drawing the answers out from within you. I've never received coaching, but looking back at my interactions with Kuro, I feel the structure is quite similar.

Moreover, I'm not doing this with the intention of 'getting coached.' I just throw everyday events at Kuro, and that's what happens as a result. And as a byproduct of that, note articles are born.

Everyday life I used to overlook -> Throw it at Kuro -> Questions are returned -> Answers come out from within me -> It becomes a note.

This flow had formed within me before I knew it.

There are at least two reviews for every article

There is one more thing I realized after I started writing notes.

When I create an article with Kuro, it follows this flow.

First, I throw themes and materials to Kuro. Kuro then generates text based on that. I read it and add corrections in my own words. Then, Kuro reviews that corrected text. It points out discrepancies in expression or awkward Japanese phrasing. I check those points and make the final decision.

In other words, for every single article, there are at least two rounds of reviews from Kuro and two from me.

When I think about it calmly, I believe this is quite remarkable.

For example, suppose you ask someone at work to review a piece of writing. You have your boss look at it, you revise it, and then have them look at it again. How many days would that take? You have to secure the other person's schedule, wait for feedback, make revisions, and have them check it again.

With Kuro, that finishes in 30 minutes to an hour. And it happens every day.

If you tried to run this review system every day between humans, I think it would take an insane amount of man-hours. The other person has their own work, and there are no colleagues who would be willing to help out every night from 10 PM. If I asked my wife, I would probably get divorce papers in return.

So, some people might think, 'You're just dumping it all on AI, right?'

But as you'll see if you actually try it, there is absolutely no feeling of dumping it all on someone else.

I am the one who reads the text Kuro produces and decides, 'This isn't what I want to say.' I am the one who feels, 'This expression is a bit too robotic.' I am the one who decides the direction of the revisions.

Kuro is an excellent sparring partner and reviewer. But I am the one who determines the direction of the article from start to finish.

That's why I feel a sense of accomplishment after an article is finished. I can think, 'I wrote a good article today.' I don't think this feeling would ever be born if I were just dumping it on AI.

30 minutes to an hour per article. Whether that's short or long is up to the individual. But for me, I'm able to keep going because I have this time every night. It's tough, but after I'm done, I can feel like I've 'given it my all.' It might be a feeling similar to working out.

If someone asks, 'You're just dumping it on AI, right?'

When you hear 'writing articles with AI,' what kind of image comes to mind?

I imagine many people picture something like, 'Giving a quick command to the AI and pasting the resulting text as is.'

Before I started, I thought that too. I thought it would be easy if the AI wrote it for me.

But when I actually tried it, it was completely different.

Kuro isn't a machine that writes in my place, but rather something closer to an entity that pulls out the thoughts inside me. It throws questions at me, and I answer. It reviews what I've written and points things out. Through that repetition, an article takes shape.

Moreover, the trigger for that is always just 'ordinary daily life.'

Everyone spends their days in much the same way. Nothing special happens very often. But it's about whether or not you can notice the small snags within that. And whether or not you try throwing them at someone after you notice them.

I don't think that "someone to throw ideas at" has to be an AI. It could be a colleague, a friend, or a family member.

However, the reality is that it's hard to find someone who will keep you company every night at 10 PM, ask questions without hesitation, and even review your writing. In my case, it just so happened to be Kuro.

There is probably "something" in your daily life, too, that you are just passing by.

Try telling someone just one thing that happened today. Say, "Something like this happened today." You won't know what comes back from that until you try.

But, speaking from my own experience, something unexpected will come back.

For me, my obsession with emails and how I spend the hour after my wife goes to sleep were just part of my daily routine at first. It wasn't until I threw them at Kuro that I realized, "Oh, so this had this kind of meaning."

Daily life is probably a much bigger treasure trove of topics than you might think.

Summary

The daily life of an ordinary person is pretty much the same for everyone. Nothing special happens that often.

But when I threw the small snags I found in that daily life at Kuro, they were dug into deeper than I expected, and meanings I hadn't even noticed myself were returned to me.

From passing by daily life to finding topics for note. It wasn't my daily life that changed, it was me.

Moreover, the process is far from just dumping the work. It's a collaborative effort where Kuro reviews it, I review it, and there are at least two checks involved. 30 minutes to an hour per article. When it's done, there's a real sense of accomplishment.

Daily life doesn't have to change. Perhaps it is enough for just the way we perceive our daily life to change.

Well then, I'll be heading off now.