i’m listening to the free churro episode of bojack horseman as i write this entry. it’s only since coming to college that i’ve learned that most people don’t ritually listen to their favorite shows as background music to help them focus or study or write. i can’t count the number of times i must have listened to your lie in april while studying for ap statistics my sophomore year. wow, that’s another thing: i wish someone had told me when i was in high school that ap and ib exams weren’t that big of a deal—or at least weren’t living and dying over, if that makes sense. lately i’ve been trying to remember that not everything is worth dying for.

anyway. i’ve been waiting the whole day to write this newsletter. i promised myself that once i finished my japanese american history midterm i’d be able to post a new blog, so here i am! yay.

i’m directing a short film for my film club, which i know i’ve mentioned before but WOW…….. doing so is a LOT of work…… there’s coordinating schedules (difficult when i work on the weekends), and finding actors, and trying to maintain a balance of control and letting my other group members truly pull their weight. i’m terrified that this project won’t be everything i’ve dreamed it to be in my head. i’m worried i’ll run out of time, or start filming and realize i hate my idea, or something else equally devastating. but as i write this, i notice that i keep using all of these i’s. it’s not an i project; it’s a we project. and i suppose i should take more comfort in that.

today i looked at an archive of world war ii japanese american stories and letters and photos and art pieces. one letter was from a young man incarcerated in topaz to his friend on the east coast, i think. we finally got movies in the camp he said, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather—i guess because he was. that was just his life. that was just the reality of over a 100,000 people just like me. it’s weird. i’ve always felt a bit itchy when it comes to the label of japanese american because my family doesn’t have any history of wartime incarceration, but as i take japanese american history, i learn more and more about the diversity of ja stories. i learn that there isn’t one way to be nikkei, or japanese, or asian american in general.

i think of something one of my favorite professors said last semester: “people tell me that i’m korean and i always ask them what they mean by that. no one can ever give me a clear definition.” i scoffed at first when i heard him say this, but the more i think about it, and the more i challenge my doxic thinking patterns, the more i realize he’s probably right.

last night i dreamt someone on my floor had a prosthetic leg (they do not). for dinner today i ate chicken tikka masala. it rained, and it was a little bit beautiful. my sister texted me that she was unlovable and i responded that wasn’t true; she told me, “i know you think that, and i don’t know if i’ll ever believe you in this lifetime.” i want to write another personal piece that’s a bit cleaner and more concise than this newsletter. i don’t know what it’d be about though. my thoughts are too fragmented lately.

there’s more i could say, but i promised myself i’d get to watch a movie tonight as another reward. double reward !

okay. i think that’s all for now. so this is where i leave you.