Finished *Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow* this afternoon and honestly even before I hit the mid point I knew it was going to be a movie because it read like one. One nit against all these newer authors I have is all their books invariably read like movies. While I greatly greatly enjoyed the book, felt it tries to do much and didn’t need to be movie-ish. But still a very lovely book!
micro
micro posts unless they are macro
Did some research and now my goal this spring leading into summer is build a pollinator garden for which I have a perfect spot that we didn’t know what to with.
Very interesting and I definitely to investigate more into this [www.washingtonpost.com](https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-solutions/2023/04/22/long-grass-helps-bees/)
> The ‘no mow’ movement could transform our lawns
This year I am trying to read more books and slowly go back to my younger self who used to be a voracious reader up till mid twenties. As I am reading books today I am slowly realizing even though I was going through books one after another, I dont quite remember any of them anymore. I mean its been almost two decades all right, but I was hoping I would remember broad story arcs of those books, and I am coming up short sadly. Is this normal?
I keep saying *Love in the time of cholera* , *One hundred years of solitude*, *The Uprooted* and more are some of my favorite books ever (yes, I am partial towards books that spans generations and time), yet if you ask me what *is* the story of those books I am stumped. I don’t remember. All I remember is absolutely being in love with those books *then* and thats the memory I have, not the content of the book itself!
Now I feel like I have a choice. I *could* go back and re-read those books again? Why not read *Asimov* again? Or *Rohinton Mistry* whose books I used devour (as grim as they used to be)? Or *Salman Rushdie* who’s *Midnight Children* and *Shame* gave me so much joy? Heck, I don’t even remember majority of *Freedom at Midnight* or *O Jerusalem* anymore.
Yet I am afraid that if I go back and re-read those books I might end up hating them now and I am not sure if I am ready for it. I am no longer the same person that I was two decades ago. I fear that the same books that brought me joy once may annoy me now and I might end up hating them, and even worse hating *myself* for ever liking them in the first place!
Eating at Freddy’s for first time and I get In N Out vibes and I hope it’s as good.
Republicans are anti socialist but also want government to have fuller regulatory control over what Disney does. Ok.
Ted Lasso (apparently) and Succession are both in their final seasons and yet the contrast between them couldn’t be more apparent. Sucession seems to have turbo charged its final season with clear sense of purpose, while already 6 episodes in Ted Lasso just seems to be meandering along with little or no sense of plot development or purpose. I loved Ted Lasso in its first season but its been a frustrating to see this show go so downhill.
Oh no. I am RTO in two weeks and just realized i have no clothes except pyjamas and lounge tees. I actually need proper tees and jeans!
In other news, dad comes next week to spend a couple of months with us. This is the first time he will be living with a pet ever, and even more so *in* the house. Like a true desi he even asked us why is he not kept outside in backyard or shed instead. He was legit disappointed when we told him Hobbes was part of the family and no such thing like staying out or separation was going to happen, and in fact he was very much going to be around him also 24/7. I mean for all practical purposes, dad *is* the guest here, not him lol. This will be an interesting two months for dad and us, and Hobbes!
For the last couple of weeks I’ve been thinking on and off about India in general. Two decades ago when I came to USA, I was the only within my family and my extended family on both maternal and paternal side who had immigrated to USA. My family was of course used to idea of dad in middle east, but a 3 hour flight didnt make it feel very far outside of India. Two decades hence, I still remain the only one outside (along with my wife) from India. While over the last decade many of my cousins have also emigrated to the USA, I was never close enough with them to think my family is here (heck we haven’t even met each other more than two times in the last decade!).
So I keep thinking about family back in India. Imagining what-ifs – what if, we too along with my family and extended family had stayed back? I keep imagining few years from now about kid’s wedding and I literally fucking know no family to invite them to wedding. The kid has cousins here that she barely even registers much less family, and the immediate family kids are all back in India. It just feels very lonely at times knowing that beyond my own circle of friends, there is literally nobody here to fall back on. Beyond us, the kid has nobody to lean on except her friends. I feel jealous looking at my brother’s own kids who are surrounded by family on both sides at all times – growing up amongst people, family and all makes me feel bad that my kid missed out on all that.
It sure would’ve felt nice if my entire family had immigrated here I suppose.