Manzanar

It’s an unfortunate paradox that the adventures I want to blog about are those that tire me out by the end of the day. And the most fun things happen when I’m too excited to be distracted by taking pictures.

I went to Manzanar (WWII internment camp) yesterday for their annual pilgrimage. I wanted to cry at everything! I did cry at a lot of things, actually, secretly. We had a mini-ceremony for my family friend’s mom, who was at the camp when she was a teenager. She died last year, so he put some of her ashes where her barrack was. He cried a lot, and I imagined me doing that in some distant, distant future, and I cried. I don’t mind death that much actually, even though it’s so sad and makes me cry, ’cause it’s just normal.

See, I had so many more things I wanted to say at the end of the day yesterday, but now I can only summarize.

I had a really good strawberry-chocolate milkshake on the way home, in Lone Pine, the closest town. It was the perfect slushiness ’cause I don’t like my milkshakes creamy. Yum!!

I don’t consider myself a Japanese-American. I’m Japanese and I’m American. Big cultural differences.

I’m tired, maybe from yesterday, from walking around under the sun. Good night!

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