It is a new year, and therefore, this column should start with a word of hope and positivity. So, it will. 2022 was a tough year for a lot of people related to crypto and tech industry, as people realized yet again, that nothing actually goes to the moon and they will continue to be poor. This is simply because we claim that we can create value out of thin-air. In reality, only a limited few can do that, and even for them it typically comes at the expense of something else. So, for this new year, this is what I will offer: Do believe in yourself that best is yet to come, and also believe that you are an unique and a special individual, but also believe that, there are many others like you, and if you just sit there and hope, nothing magical will happen to you.
At Hive, we felt that a social uplifting is possible if there is honest effort. Many years now have gone and I am still seeing only a handful of individuals achieving success and financial freedom. This is not surprising to me, but I did have higher expectations and therefore, I too, am the victim of my over-expectation. The difference is, my expectation was from many individual humans, as opposed to a particular crypto token. You can argue that mine was even a longer moonshot than yours, and you would be correct. That doesn’t change the fact that there is hope. I will continue to invest in hope.
One thing I have seen in this community as a disease is the sense of entitlement. Since for the longest time this was, and still is, one of the most supported communities at hive, when considering the quality of content it delivers. This is the singular fact that creates the sense of entitlement. People start to believe that they are special and they don’t really need to ‘sweep the floor’.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said in his speech in 1967 titled “What is your life’s blueprint?”
“If it falls your lot to be a street sweeper, sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures, sweep streets like Beethoven composed music, sweep streets like Leontyne Price sings before the Metropolitan Opera. Sweep streets like Shakespeare wrote poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will have to pause and say: Here lived a great street sweeper who swept his job well. If you can’t be a pine at the top of the hill, be a shrub in the valley. Be the best little shrub on the side of the hill. Be a bush if you can’t be a tree. If you can’t be a highway, just be a trail. If you can’t be a sun, be a star. For it isn’t by size that you win or fail. Be the best of whatever you are.”
In this new year of 2023, please try and reflect on this a little bit. You are special, but not so special. Your writing is good, but not so good. You are a good person, but there are many others like you. Be the best at what you do, and keep your expectations low. Humility is something we can all use in abundance. Happy New Year!
-- by 
Every time I take a step forward and feel like I have the high ground, life and its “greater schemes” smacks me back to reality.
Plans getting sabotaged and another hurdle in the way, at this point it’s all quite expected. Yet, the optimistic fool that lives inside of me still manages to get his hopes up. Every so often, all of this, life and its ways, it all feels rigged. As if some kind of a line was drawn to limit some of us; a limit placed on our dreams and achievements. How far we go and how high we reach feels bounded, restricted.
I will gladly take on any challenge, but that one feeling, the suspicion that I have of life not being “fair” and rigging this journey is just too strong.
It feels like life has a cheat code or a remote of some sorts; an advanced thingamajig that alerts it, so that it can just intervene and ravage through every initiative we take and the strategies we work on. It might all sound gloom-ridden, but it is slowly turning me into a cripple, mentally, and sometimes physically.
I know ranting won’t solve most of these issues, but it may clear my mind though. The funny thing is that I already know what it will take to solve this never-ending list of problems, and the common answer is having that can-do attitude; which I have, I believe. But after trying in many different fields, after testing different methods and procedures, life still manages to be one step ahead; as always, I’m left behind staring at life’s bright red tail lights.
And that is what bothers me the most, because I don’t like losing. And this is the only category of my life where the number of my losses tower over the number of my wins; whereas it’s usually the opposite for any other aspects of life.
“Problems are like washing machines. They twist, they spin, they knock us around, but in the end we come out cleaner; brighter and better than before” - Unknown
--- by 
--Spolier alert
Tim Burton is one of my top favourite directors as a part of my childhood was attached with his top-notch movies. His distinct visuals and aesthetic art style always makes him special compared with other directors. I grew up watching his dark-themed animations and gradually started to like those black and white big-eyed characters such as victor, his pet sparky or corpse bride. Burton is also partially responsible for creating a soft corner in my heart for Johnny Depp even.
Now, Burton's love for macabre surroundings started in his early childhood when he spent most of his time in cemeteries or wax museums. These are the elements that influenced him to think differently and helped to make alienated gothic heroes, frankenstein themed dog or scissor-hand man. His early career with Disney was difficult as his unique art style didn't match up with their happy, colourful, kid-like theme. He was fired and hired by Disney almost 3 times but that didn't stop him from rising with his talent. His art successfully introduced expressionism (a dream-like unreality and psychological tension) in modern art. And when we see any of this kind of art ingredients in other films, that gives us a Burton-esque vibe!
Now, though I have deep respect for Burton's work, to be honest, I wasn't intending to watch Wednesday as it seemed like high school drama. Now after finishing up, I would say, it's not as bad as I thought. Wednesday, an adapted sequel from the previous sequences of the Addams family, basically explores the main character Wednesday's "special" school, from where one will get a ride with a series of adventures, explore the woods for a mysterious monsters and through connecting the dots with the revealed clues, s/he will reach for an interesting end.
Burton is always best at portraying uniqueness in his characters and his efforts always pay off, as most of them turn into iconic creations within no time. The same thing happened on Wednesday too. Jenna Ortega's cold behaviour, witty dialogue, black attire, and dark humour will make you love her more. During the whole season, Wednesday had to play with a serious look where she only smiled once when her uncle appeared and also cried once over the dead body of her pet. I enjoyed how Gomez (Wednesday's father) called her girl weird nicknames like "my little scorpion, death trap, viper, stormcloud" whereas regular parents use cutie pie, honey, sweetie! In all the previous cases, Addams family members, especially Wednesday, was portraited as a self-centred, emotionless kid but in this series, slowly, for the first time, her character progressed towards learning the value of teamwork, tolerance and human connection through the warmth of her friends. There was also enough space given to the rest of the cast, which was successfully utilised by the characters.
In this story, a town-versus-gown conflict builds up where the Nevermore school students are called outcasts by the normies. But throughout time, they all together are able to save the city.
Now there are some dissatisfactions from my side that came from the plotholes I can't overlook. Like coming out of the rain, how can one be all dried up, how can one run so gracefully in the forest amidst the dark? There was no exhaustion from Wednesday in the whole series, even after digging a whole grave on her own. Come on, she is a human being after all! To make a perfect role model, they ignored some of these details in the show. Actually, it turned into a teenage melodrama after the first four episodes when other directors (Gandja Monteiro and James Marshall) started to continue the rest of the episodes. Also, the suspension was pretty basic and almost predictable. "Spoiler alert from here!" It is obvious in so-called detective stories that whoever you suspect from the first, turns out innocent in the last and the purest, most reliable person becomes the backstabber. Suspecting Xavier over and over as a killer, made it obvious that he was pawned by someone. I was sighing when Wednesday was showing the book on Hyde to Tyler, how come she believed him so much? Though it is true that doubting the botany teacher as the main culprit wasn't in our minds!
But I'll admit, I got some life lessons from this series. I was mentally so disturbed while watching it and Wednesday helped me to be on my feet again. Her theory taught me not to be a pussy and to have fewer expectations from people. I tend to see others' happiness over mine and sacrifice a lot for them. I need to come out from this theory for my own good. So trying to be strong and not let others be the reason to feel down is one of my mottos for now! To sum up, skipping these little inconsistencies, one will enjoy the outstanding performance of the morbid lead actor, amusing goth dance, background music, and lastly solving different mysteries together till the end!
-- by 
I have found her. My one true love. Her name is M, a girl from Boston who came here for the summer to work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The museum's director of security told me that there are no other employees by the name of M; however, he offers his services as "an unofficial" escort. In addition, he suggests that we take an evening walk around Central Park in order to get to know each other better.
That's how I met her for the very first time. And I ended up liking her as she was!
We pass through the park while conversing about our mutual interests. She tells me how much she loves music and dancing, and I tell her about my passion for jazz and blues and writing. On the way back home, we stop on a quiet street corner where we exchange vows of everlasting devotion.
Though I am still new to this city, I feel as if I have finally felt at home.
On one warm and sunny day after returing to my apartment, I poured myself a cup of coffee and settled into the sofa with a book to read. The knock on my door stirs me from my position, and when I open it, I'm both surprised and amazed to find M standing outside. "I came to see what you were reading," she told me, smiling warmly. After coming in, she settled down next to me on the couch.
"What's it called?"
I smiled as she looked down at the book. "It's called 'The Great Gatsby.'"
She nodded, but doesn't say anything, so I continue with my explanation.
"Yes... well,there was a time when I thought Gatsby's dream would never die."
M looked at me, puzzled.
"But this is the 20th century, right?
And he died in the 1920s."
"No. He didn't die. I think he's still alive. I mean, perhaps I'm wrong, but I don't think so."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I've seen him. Or someone who looks just like him. At least, that's all I saw. But I was there at night, and it seemed to me that I had only dreamed him up before and have been dreaming again."
"Dreamed him up?" M asks.
"Like a character in a story?"
I nod and smiled a bit. I am good at it gal! Making stories that can overwhelm your thoughts. I was happy inside while having this conversation.
"That's exactly what I said. That I'd dreamed him up."
"Are you sure you're not confusing the character with some real person you met?"
"Of course I'm not. No one I ever met could possibly be the man I saw last night. I saw him clearly and distinctly, as clearly as if I were looking at him right now."
"Okay, let's suppose you really did meet someone you knew was dead. How do you explain what happened to his face?"
I shrug.
"I don't know. Maybe he had plastic surgery or something. Perhaps he even died of old age."
"Old age! Gatsby, at twenty-five, was already considered an old man."
"Well, maybe he aged normally. He certainly wasn't young when I first met him. And he looked older than me, anyway."
"And yet you claim to have seen him last night."
"Oh, yes. And I think I'll see him again tonight."
M looks skeptical. I'm in glee.
"Why would you want to meet a dead man?"
"I'm not sure I do. At any rate, I can't help myself. I keep thinking he might be able to help me. He might know things I need to know."
"Things about what?"
"About my past, mostly. About why I left home and why I ran away from home and all that."
"Why would a ghost from the 1920s have any idea about the problems of a 21st century lad?"
"He might. He may know things that I've forgotten. Things I might have been told but haven't remembered until now. Things I never learned. Or heard."
"Like what?"
"Like the name of my father. Or why my mother abandoned me."
"Your mother abandoned you?" she was like whaaaat! I am so sorry!
"Yes. She took off with another man. I never saw her again after that."
"Didn't she leave a note?"
"No. I searched everywhere for clues, but couldn't find anything. Not even a fingerprint."
"You mean the police never tracked her down?"
"Not that I know of. They must have tried, though."
"So what happened to you?"
"My aunt and uncle adopted me. They raised me in Massachusetts until I graduated from college and decided to come here. To New York City."
"Why didn't they live in New York themselves?"
"They were from North Carolina originally. They moved to Boston because their daughter had married a man from there, and they wanted to be near them."
"That must have been hard on them."
"Actually, it was pretty easy. It was nice to have a whole new family."
"What about your parents?"
And the conversation goes on. That night I, M and Gatsby were like mingled within a surreal magic realism!
"I've written some things since I've been in New York."
"Have you published any?" She asked.
"Not yet, but I'm working on it."
The street lights were going down and two dreamy souls started walking towards nowhere with subtle unknown feelings and care for each other.
And thus, the story continued.....
