Husan Isomiddinov

Met with some business people today and got convinced why Iman Gadzhi is the smartest money-maker.

Thanks @theJamshidbek for the invitation. Also special thanks to @levshabek for lending his charger lol.

#plov

IELTS update!

English has been an integral part of my life. During my earlier years, my Dad made me watch English cartoons so that I could master the language from a young age. Though I was not the most passionate learner, with my father's courage, I came to be somewhat fluent in the language without having any external assistance.

If we are talking about English, then there is always a spot for IELTS. I took IELTS 3 times. Right after my 8th grade, I took the test with BC and got 6.5. (I did not really care about English at that time, so I was not fully invested anyhow). The second one was in 2022, the end of my first semester in my junior year. I took it with IDP and got an 8. I was happy with the score and I believe it well reflected my 2 months long preparation. The last one happened to be on the last days of December. My previous score expired, and I had to take the exam with fairly zero preparation. I got an 8 overall again. A rather good score, but the speaking examiner must have been in bad mood that morning. I am not trying to evade my underperformance in the sub-test—7 in speaking is surely not bad I suppose—but I am confident that it far poorly reflects my abilities in this skill. (I could surely appeal my score, but I don't think there is any need).

Regardless, here is the insight. Whether you are taking IELTS, SAT, Toefl, or any other standardized test, simply improve your English. It is not some impractical tips and tricks that will save your skin on your test day; it is the pure rigor of your English language.

#yeah

With Baxtiyar, we came a long way. From teaching him the basics of SAT english to suggesting him private schools in tashkent, I’ve noticed his cunning and passionate nature in seeking knowledge and improvement. And after one unsuccessful attempt in august, he finally nailed the test. Now he is one of the highest achievers at CIC, my ex school.

You can congratulate him (@baxtiiyar)

#student_results

What happened in Almaty?

I’ve been caught up with my schedule over the last few months and haven’t had the time to post anything valuable here. However, let me share a fun (and somewhat painful) incident that happened during my visit to Almaty, Kazakhstan.

It was a long travel day that started on the morning of September 27th. After a full day of traveling, we finally arrived at our hotel in Almaty just after midnight. A little confusion with the room pricing at reception didn’t stop us from getting the much-needed sleep we craved.

September 28th was a fun day. It was sunny, but the cold easily cut through my only layers—a cardigan and a jumper. We walked around the city for a bit, visiting the Almaty History Museum, before finding refuge from the biting chill in a nearby shopping mall. The mall felt eerily similar to the Tashkent City Mall, almost like a copycat. Of course, I couldn’t resist grabbing a coffee from Costa—a remedy much needed for the weather.

Next, we headed to the kit distribution site to pick up our race bags and bib numbers. There were a few issues with the organizers (a story for another time), but we sorted everything out and called it a day, heading back to the hotel. The night passed peacefully.

September 29th, Race Day.
I woke up early, ready to prepare for the run. But unexpectedly, I felt a sharp pain growing in my abdomen. I brushed it off, thinking it would pass, but I was wrong—so wrong. The pain refused to subside, growing more intense by the second.

My mind, which had been focused on conquering the 10km mark in under 50 minutes, was now preoccupied with thoughts of weakness. At one point, the idea of quitting crossed my mind. But no—I had come too far for that. After all, whether Sultan, Shah, King, or Emperor, who would choose to die on their deathbed when they could fight valiantly on the battlefield?

I asked Bilal, my trip partner, to call a Yandex taxi to our hotel. We were going to the start line.

"START!"
A voice boomed so loudly it seemed to shake the ground beneath us. In no time, I was swept up in a crowd of runners—vicious monsters marching forward without mercy. None of them would stop to let you pass or stay behind for you. For a moment, I thought the crowd itself would be my undoing—not the pain in my abdomen, which had now become intolerable.

My feet pounded against the ground as I forced myself forward. Time seemed to slow as I became one with the chaos, trying to bury my pain in the process. Strangely, the strategy worked. My blurry eyes, barely able to focus through the pain, caught sight of the 8km mark.

I had come so far. Physically, I was still there, but mentally, I was waging a war in another realm. My only goal was to keep my legs moving.

At some point—maybe I blacked out—I found myself with a medal around my neck and an apple in my hand, devoured with primal hunger. Somehow, I had finished the race. I didn’t remember how, but I had.

The pain, which had reduced me to my 7-year-old self, seemed to vanish entirely.

I reunited with my friends, and we left.

It wasn’t just a race of distance—it was a battle against myself.

Peace out!

#just_like_that #running

18!

Today, I’m an adult. Supposedly. Like someone signed the papers. Like a switch flipped, and now I’m part of the real world.

But I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to feel. Do I congratulate myself for getting this far? Celebrate the list of things I’ve done, my greatest hits? Or do I mourn all the moments that slipped through my fingers like water?

And while I’m here, caught between what’s lost and what’s left, life just keeps going. Life doesn’t care if you’re ready. It just drags you forward. So you hold on. You try to find some point of reference in all this chaos—some spot of excitement, a little joy, maybe even peace. Meaning, if you’re lucky. And that’s life, right? Trying to find something solid while everything around you just keeps shifting, pushing you somewhere else??

We can go pages talking about it, but that's not important. What truly matters is my people. I want to thank everyone who are making this chaos feel like an adventure. Everyone who have pulled me out of the noise and showed me something real. You kept me steady, kept me moving.

And this is just the beginning.

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@husan_thinking

The first Uzbek in space was from Fergana.

Dope!