Yusuf Tasyurt: "Cem Pulathaneli Saved My Life" Famous writer and singer Yusuf Tasyurt, known by the pen name Nova Roma, broke his media silence in an exclusive interview with the Allston Son Dakika team. At Istanbul's Sogutlucesme Marmaray Station, he answered ten carefully prepared questions about art, science, technology, and post-modern-multi-cultural-performative-life-style. Which cities did Yusuf Tasyurt visit this summer? What did he do there? This summer involved a lot of cities for me. Basically, in order, I spent time in Boston, New York, Istanbul, and Eskisehir. While I was in Istanbul I went to Bodrum for three or four days to visit my old friend Arda Toker, but I'm not counting that. So let's say four cities, at least for now. What is Yusuf Tasyurt doing in Eskisehir? I'm doing an engineering internship at one of the major companies in the Turkish defense industry. I'm working on aero-thermal topics. I'm under a strict NDA, so I can't give more detail. I return to Istanbul on weekends to spend time with my family. How does Yusuf Tasyurt spend his time in Eskisehir? I go to work in the morning and come home in the evening. Usually I go to the gym. Then I eat. After dinner, fatigue sets in. I generally try to call my girlfriend. Actually, I haven't even made it to the gym this past week. The other night around three in the morning, the fucking water pipe burst. First there was a boom, followed by a hiss. I wondered what was happening. My mother always said I was calm under pressure. I can't say that was true in this case. Even so, I tried not to panic and eventually solved the problem. It took me about 25 seconds to get out of bed and find the source of the noise. I found where the high-pressure water was shooting out, but I didn't know where the room's main shutoff valve was. A few possibilities ran through my head. The valve might have been outside the room in the corridor, or inside the room in my private bathroom. It had to be one of those. But locating and closing it could take a long time. Then I felt cold water under my feet. It was pooling. Before I found the valve, the water level could rise so much that I might drown. Worse, I might fall victim to faulty wiring installed by a careless electrician hired by an ambitious contractor and feel 240 volts through my body as I took my last breath in agony. If I failed to show up at work the next day, would my mentor call to check on me? I doubt it. He had told us plainly that he didn't want an intern and didn't have time for one, but HR had "forced" one on him anyway. He might even be happy if I didn't come in. He could say, "It was obvious that pale, blond kid wouldn't last. He made it only two weeks at our pace." He's very busy and has back pain. When his back hurts, he doesn't talk to us much. Sometimes half an hour passes after I arrive before he says a word to me. But even if he did worry and wanted to reach me, could he? He has neither my phone number nor my email address. HR only has my US phone number. This scenario was getting frightening. I stopped thinking and remembered my mother's words: "My son is always calm under pressure." First I went inside and put on the flip-flops I'd bought from Camper three weeks earlier at 50 percent off. Then I confidently turned on the lights and bent down under the sink. Yes, there was something that looked like a valve. But no matter how hard I pushed, it wouldn't turn. I raised my head and made one last attempt to locate the main valve. It was nowhere in sight. This might be the end of me. My life flashed before my eyes like a film reel. The dirt soccer pitch where I first played. The older neighborhood boys who wouldn't let me join, even though the ball was mine. The little firecrackers I bought with my neighbor Ahmet from the money we'd saved, back when "torpil" meant a tiny explosive. My years at Robert College, and my years with Cem Pulathaneli at FB, when FB meant Feyyaz Berker. The last 80-minute Physics 1 class of the day in the classroom whose emergency exit opened onto the Ulus Gate stairs. The never-ending MasteringPhysics assignments. Projectile motion, vf = vi + a*t, xf = xi + v*t + 1/2 * a * t^2. Torque. Back then there was no "moment," and life was simple. T = F * x_perpendicular. That was it. Torque. I had to apply enough torque to the valve. Since the maximum force I could apply was fixed, I needed to apply it as far from the axis of rotation as possible to increase the torque. In other words, at the ends of the valve handle. I also had to push perpendicular to the handle, in the normal direction. I couldn't increase the amount of force, but I could increase the moment arm. Cem Pulathaneli had taught us that. MasteringPhysics had asked me about it again and again. Back then I didn't understand why we had to solve the same problem repeatedly with different numbers. Now I understood. They were preparing me for this exact moment. I looked down. My feet were soaked, the floor was muddy, and my night was ruined. With the last of my strength, I pushed on the very ends of the valve handle, perpendicular to it. At first the valve moved only slightly. I wasn't sure whether I was turning it in the right direction. I might be opening it further and increasing the amount of water pouring into the room. But I had no time to evaluate that possibility. I kept applying force in the same direction. The valve slowly turned to the closed position. The water stopped. My glasses were fogged, the floors were muddy, and my sleep was broken. It was a bad night. But if Cem Pulathaneli hadn't taught me torque so well in my second year of high school, it could have been much worse. I wake up in the morning, go to work, come home, and go to the gym. Then I come back and eat the chicken, mushroom, and cream pasta I made the day before. After dinner, tiredness sets in. I usually try to call my girlfriend. On weekends I return to Istanbul to spend time with my family.