Husan Isomiddinov

#star_wars

Opening a new group at SATashkent, btw.

Let my new students become the greatest jedi but in SAT.

If you want to join, you can dm @satashkent_admin

Barsa-Kelmes, Karakalpstan!

Found these photos in my gallery from the September of 2024. The journey was ardous, but the views creating a Mars-like atmosphere compensated for each drop of sweet from that 17-hour plascard train-ride.

You might wonder how we "came back" from Barsa-Kelmes (No Return). Well, we did, physically. Though when we came back, we weren't the same people we were. Tired. Shoes filled with bitter grians of salt. Caffeine-deficient. Dehydrated. And above all, Enlightened.

Whenever the sun surpasses its 90-degree mark in our yellowed sky, I venture to my home café, Costa. The hum of the espresso machines, combined with the tropical atmosphere the café radiates, never fails to greet me with welcoming arms. As I prepare to jump into my hours-long MacBook productivity, I hear familiar footsteps approaching from behind. Sometimes it is Abdulaziz; oftentimes, it is that designer guy I befriended three weeks ago or a random acquaintance from the nearby Al-WIUT. The chatter imbues the air in no time. Sorry, Heidegger, but I am talking about the exact chatter you damned in your famous 1927 book. The taste of Abdulaziz's latte, DeepSeek stealing our data, or Nolan's new movie Gladiator—the discussion knows no barrier. Magnetic. Energetic. Sociable. Livable.

My life in the last 3 years transformed from let's-pull-all-nighters-at-natlib to spend-less-on-cappuccino-at-costa. And yes, my wallet is not quite happy. But as Friedman once remarked, consider the trade-offs. Behind me coming to disdain the toxic-productive, intellectually artificial, oddly unwelcoming, and architecturally brutalist environment of the national library lies a valid exchange: a delicious taste of living.

Our beloved library, while offering hours of uneventful peace—impeccable for maintaining that perfect GPA—lacks color. It is so absurdly artificial that it seems perfectly designed to prepare you for the earlier, raw bits of overkilling adulthood, absorbing you into the relentless absurdism humans have trapped themselves in. It is, in essence, the physical manifestation of what I deem 9-5: a disciplinary institution designed to mold individuals into obedient, hyper-efficient agents of a system that values output over organic intellectual growth.

But is this exchange sustainable? Perhaps there is a balance between the sterile rigor of the library and the lively comfort of the café. While I have abandoned the cold, silent walls of NatLib, I sometimes wonder: is the warmth of Costa merely another illusion? A softer, more palatable version of the same system, trapping me with aesthetics while still demanding my productivity?

I don’t plan to discourage anyone from visiting libraries, nor do I wish to cast a deterring light on the 9-5 way of living. But I do believe in choice. Escape the artificial brutalism, and remember to taste the tropical Spanish lattes that come with lively memories.

Nolan? Ludwig? Odyssey?

I can smell Oscar already.

#substack

I also started blogging on substack. I think it is slightly better than Medium for the same matter. Opened it recently. Will be posting more there. I'd be glad for a little support.

https://substack.com/@hida115?utm_campaign=unknown&utm_medium=web

#knowledge #research

When discussing how great ideas emerge, my students and I narrowed our speculation to a simple formula: input -> output. In other words, for one to possess ideas (great ones, not to mention), there should be an input---the input of ideas. The inference here is rather simple. We need great ideas to have great ideas. Paradoxical, indeed. 

Yet, things are not that simple. We do not read great ideas to copy and paste them. Ideas, thoughts, speculations, conjectures, and any bit of intellect serve humans as a base to build upon. Existing knowledge furthers the ensuing one. Patterns turn into solid structures; dots into lines. The more input there is, the greater the output gets. That explains the mere 66-year timeframe from humanity's first-ever powered flight to the first step on our moon. Exponential was the progress indeed. 

Knowledge works the same way. A greater input is needed. The website you see on the picture is the exact place for it. It publishes all the recent papers written in any walk of intellectual expansion. You can find everything from how Plato was an amazing wrestler to the evaluation of "AI-wars" the advent of China's Deepseek has engendered recently. An amazing resource, in a nutshell. 

The main message: input for the output.

Link: ssrn.com

Substack. I've been using a lot lately. I would say it feels like a combination of slightly more civilized version of twitter and medium, both of which I use actively.

Except some weird posts I encounter quite often, it's been serving me well. It quite a place to have ideas I should say.

Should I start posting there?

"The desire to freeze reality is about avoiding reality." 🤌

I don't usually read short stories now. But this one...mhhm...got me thinking, not lying. And that the last sentence is something.

Simulacrum

On Air

My Dad's nasal condition is the kind of thing you would only notice sitting beside him by the dinner table, counting seconds in between his labored breaths. Two operations in two years, yet zero progress. It is not because "Toshmi" graduates are inept at their work (maybe they are); but there is a different reason behind his medical mystery, the one that ties us all, Tashkent inhabitants, Uzbekistan folks. The cocktail of dust, exhaust, and whatever else our sky decides to hurl at us in these not-so-welcoming winter months---that is the problem. 

Most of you here have experienced a winter or two in Tashkent, and the odds are high that there were instances when you had put on your mask so as not to blow in some chemical gas. Make no worries; I share the same suffering. Twenty cigarettes a day, experts calculated. I would argue it is more than that. Cigarettes can't cause skin irritation at least (the one I was not privileged to avoid). Even Ibn Sina saw it coming when he came up with that poppy quote: "If not for the dust in the air, humans would reach centuries of age."

The gist is that it is all not natural. We made it to ourselves. Pass by Mahtumquli Street, and you will see full-fledged industrial plants operating 24/7. The city itself is not meant to accommodate more than 3 million people, and there are probably more than 4 million souls searching living in this 30k-hectare circle. And with improper heating systems that come up every late November, regular folks have no choice but to rely on gas as the only means of heating their households. They are not doing it out of fun of course. People know the risks of using gas as a means of heating, but that remains the only choice. However, our keenly-educated officials keep delivering rather imprudent remarks on this matter. And the buildings? Ahh, the usual story: just for the looks, with zero damn given about the practicality. They can build hundreds of "NestOnes," but if IQ_AIR keeps indicating harmful levels of particulate matter in our skies, get ready to embrace that apocalyptic world from the Blade Runner.

This post is not intended to cast my negative emotions on any individual or group of individuals. I am just calling for awareness. Next time, it might be a better idea to post a story about the air quality instead of opening your Instagram camera every time a few snowflakes touch the streets of Tashkent. And my Dad? He is a regular user of Snoop now.

#yeah

Back to where everything started🥂

I indeed never walked alone!

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