feruza.dev

UX for setting stock alerts in Interactive Brokers is horrible so I built a mini bot in telegram to set alerts and build your own watchlist. It doesn't have many features, but I'll add them as I go. Check out the bot here: @Buffetindicator_bot @noordievdev

Looking for volunteers: - Highly skilled in both Uzbek and English - Experienced in uzb-eng and eng-uzb translation tasks This is for a LLM research project with potential publication. If interested, please reach out:

I don’t feel 'home'. The not so often talked about part of moving abroad at a young age is that you will never feel home again. The first couple of years, you are still exploring and excited to be out there, making friends and seeing places. You’re naive and innocent. You trust everyone and see the best in people. But sooner or later, that feeling of thrill fades. You simply get used to being a foreigner. You visit home once or twice a year, but you won’t feel at home. Everything is the same in a relative way, but you’ve aged in ways that are hard to explain. You feel it in every conversation you have. Would you stay if you knew this would happen? Probably not. Because at the end of the day, you chose this to create a better life for yourself and the people you love. Soon you lose the idea of what a better life even means for you. It is certainly not the unease of never belonging. But you will keep going so that you can provide that promised better life for others. It comes at a cost of losing what could’ve been a better life for you. The loss of moments in the hopes of giving back. Moments of washing the dishes in the kitchen with your siblings. Experimenting with a new recipe with your mom. Discussing worldly affairs with your uncles around the big family table. Listening to your father’s stories from when he was in the army as he grilled kebabs. You would give a lot just to have back one of those plain afternoons when you didn’t know what to do and ended up wandering around the house for hours. Early spring, when the apricot trees would bloom and fill the whole backyard with their scent. Watching С лёгким паром every new year’s, over and over again, and every time find the capacity to criticize Женяʻs character. Sitting around the messy table to debrief over freshly brewed green tea once the guests leave. Eating оливье and Шуба for days after the 31st, every time putting all your faith into not getting food poisoning. You desperately search for this sense of

I've also started posting on twitter for a broader audience. If you'd like to tag along: https://x.com/Feruza_mkva @feruza_dev

🔥 Завтра заканчивается прием заявок сразу в две международные программы для стартапов. Если вы строите продукт с глобальными амбициями, это один из тех случаев, когда несколько часов, потраченных на заявку, могут открыть доступ к инвесторам, клиентам и рынку США. 1. Alchemist Silkroad – Silicon Valley Residency Program Программа для B2B-стартапов, которые хотят выйти на рынок США. Реализуется совместно с Alchemist Accelerator, одним из сильнейших мировых акселераторов для enterprise-стартапов. Участники получают: • 3 месяца в Кремниевой долине • проживание и рабочее пространство • 10-недельную акселерационную программу • доступ к инвесторам, менторам и потенциальным клиентам • помощь с регистрацией компании в США и выходом на американский рынок 🔗 https://alchemistsvr.com/ 2. Road to TechCrunch Startup Battlefield 2026 Возможность пройти отбор на TechCrunch Startup Battlefield 200 и представить свой стартап на одной из самых известных технологических сцен мира. Что получают участники: • до $100 000 инвестиций для трех финалистов • полностью оплачиваемую поездку в Сан-Франциско • участие в TechCrunch Startup Battlefield 200 • OpenAI for Startups Credits • международную медийную поддержку • доступ к инвесторам Кремниевой долины • сильное международное комьюнити 🔗 https://road2battlefield.com/ ⏰ Дедлайн подачи заявок: 30 июня 2026 года. Даже если не уверены, что пройдете, подайте заявку. Для многих международных стартапов именно одна такая возможность становилась отправной точкой для выхода на глобальный рынок. @umedschannel

A homeless lady stopped me asking for change, saying she hadn't eaten for days. I didn't have cash (haven't held any in years), so I felt bad and offered to buy her something nearby instead. I was in a rush, and the closest place was McDonald's. She responded with, "I'd rather starve than eat processed McDonald's." Earlier, I bought a homeless guy pizza and a small dessert from Whole Foods, only for him to tell me he doesn't eat meat, dairy, gluten or sugar. perhaps, he had genuine health reasons. But still. This is the Bay Area for you. @feruza_dev

Writing to Remember. On a sudden impulse to scribble, I hit 'create a new note'. Not because I have anything profound to say. Sometimes I simply panic when I notice I’m forgetting parts of my life that used to be my whole world. I sit and try hard to remember what used to give me great joy and inspiration as a child. I force myself, because I’m terrified of losing the bits and pieces that made me who I am. I find myself longing for the girl who desperately waited for spring, for the afternoon naps that would finally feel ethereal with the breeze coming through the crack of the fortochka. We could never fully close it. The winter cold had left its edges swollen, or something along those lines. I was never curious enough to find out why we couldn’t just fix it.  I get this urge to write almost every week. I write to remember. I write because I know my memory will betray me. I write because it somehow gives me a sense of comfort, as if I’d lived all those years just yesterday. I write to make a sense of who my fifteen-year-old self was. At fifteen, I firmly believed that whenever something bad enough happened to make me cry, something good would happen the next day. Sometimes I pretended things were worse than they were, just so something good would be around the corner. I write because I fear the day when it all loses its color and turns grey.  And I write because it is a beautiful act, the words dancing around before they finally find their places, like dancers in an English country dance.   I don’t write because I believe myself to be a good writer. I write to make a sense of my past, of my acts and beliefs. You’d be surprised how many patterns you’ll come to discover. Who you betrayed, and who you loved. As Sibylle Baier puts it, “I yearn, for the roots of the woods. That origin of all my strong and strange moods”. Another line I love from her song “I Lost Something in the Hills”: “when I felt mad and deprived, and only the slopes gave me hope.” The slopes be