On Advanced Technology and Natural Selection

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I read this article yesterday about a woman who is pregnant via in-vitro fertilization following a womb transplant. The article goes on to explain that 1 in 5,000 women is born without a uterus and that this procedure is being called a “medical miracle” (which, in and of itself seems an oxymoron, but more on that later).

I started to think about why I viewed this transplant as different than a heart or kidney transplant, as less of a miracle and more of a man-plays-God situation, and it comes down to this part of the article: “The baby is expected to be delivered by Caesarean. The womb will then be removed in the months after the birth to avoid further complications and the risk of rejection. Experts warn the pregnancy carries several health risks to the patient as well as to the baby. These include birth defects due to the use of immuno-suppressive drugs as well as premature delivery.”

The desire to have a baby is incredibly overwhelming for many women (perhaps the fact that I lack this desire is what prevents me from relating), but we seem to neglect the idea of natural selection. Perhaps nature has made certain women unable to have children (just as some men are sterile) for a reason. A vast number of the women in my own little corner of this earth have undergone successful C-sections (my own mother included), but there are still risks associated with it. But the fact that this woman and the doctors who will monitor this situation and carry out the associated procedures, are willing to put the baby at risk for birth defects as well as to remove that womb once the child is born makes me uncomfortable.

Several of my friends have gone through hell to be able to have their children, and I am sure they would defend this woman. But my question remains, at what point do we accept what nature has doled out? Are we making medical advances that could lead to weaknesses in our species? The idea of natural selection is to weed out the weaker members of the population to allow it to thrive. Are we interfering with that natural process and bringing people who have residual problems as a result? Are we thinning out the blood?

It’s difficult for some to view us as animals, as a species, thanks to our cognitive superiority and power of reason. And there are medical breakthroughs that one might compare to this and then ask me if we should just let certain people die if we follow the natural selection process. Perhaps preserving life versus creating life is where the line should be drawn.

People so often point to God as an explanation for why devastating things happen. But only when medicine can’t intervene. Perhaps that is the core of my argument. People will say “God works in mysterious ways” when something inexplicable or devastating happens (perhaps, again, nature and her natural selection have intervened), so why can’t those same people accept when God or nature has intervened with their ability to do something? In this case, it seems to go against God, nature, and reason to consider this situation as acceptable or viable. Just because something can be done doesn’t always mean it should.

 

On Mistaking Ambition for Greed

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I had a discussion with a friend about his current state of affairs, and his quest to find fulfillment in his life. He said, “I feel like a hypocrite for complaining, because I have an awesome life. I’m healthy, I have a great job, and great friends and family. That’s so much more than most people.”
His words made me wonder why we feel as though wanting more for ourselves, once we’ve reached a certain level of success, health, or social capabilities is wrong. Why do we have the need to cut ourselves off, especially when what we have is “enough” only by social conventions and not our own? It seems we have erroneously drawn what we perceive as a fine line between ambition and greed.
Ambition is defined as: an earnest desire for some type of achievement or distinction as power, honor, fame, or wealth, and the willingness to strive for its attainment.
Greed is defined as: excessive or rapacious desire especially for wealth or possessions.
Ambition is supposed to be seen as a virtue, but the words are defined a bit too similarly. The definition of ambition is flawed by a negative connotation. We’ve come to view power, honor, fame, and wealth as greedy pursuits. We see these desires as selfish, and if we pursue them, we want things that we shouldn’t.
Is it not ambition that drives someone who is already healthy to want to be more healthy? I am, by virtually all medical standards, a healthy individual. I am not overweight, I do not have any diseases, all my organs function properly, etc. Does it make me greedy or selfish to want to become even more fit? If I work out every day, working to improve my strength, flexibility, and endurance, am I selfish? I should just be happy with being healthy and leave it at that, shouldn’t I?
It baffles me how a society wrought with excessive material desires will criticize someone for wanting more enriching concepts to fulfill his or her life. It’s ok to want every electronic gadget on the planet, but desire to have a more fulfilling and/or lucrative career, or be stronger, or have more social interaction and you’re pushing some sort of limit, or asking for too much.
What drives this mindset in our society? What limitations do we impose on ourselves because of it? My response to my friend was, “You’re allowed to be grateful and ambitious at the same time.” If we recognize the fortunes we do have, we show gratitude for the things that do work well, then it allows for ambition to function guilt-free. But I wonder if we should even feel obligated to do this. It sounds nice and righteous, but really, at the end of the day, it’s no one else’s concern what we strive for. If we can live comfortably with our own actions and pursuits, how they are perceived by others is irrelevant.
image © Pakhnyushchyy | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

On Orwellian Revision and Memory

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I’ve returned to Dennett’s Consciousness Explained, and coincidentally, as I’ve spent some time this week on Memory Lane, I happened upon Dennett’s discussion of Orwellian Revision, which is, as he explains it, “sometimes we seem to remember, even vividly, experiences that never occurred…we recognize the risk of inferring from ‘this is what I remember’ to ‘this is what really happened’ and hence we resist—with good reason—any diabolical operationalism that tries to convince us that what we remember (or what history records in the archives) just is what really happened.” This topic comes up as a larger discussion of when we actually experience something—the point between the information hitting our senses and our “awareness” of it.

Time is a factor in Orwellian Revision, though Dennett’s discussion is limited to a more immediate timeframe (his example is seeing a long-haired woman run by, and then seconds later, the mind imprinting the long-haired woman with eyeglasses seen on a different woman earlier in the day). Does time influence the amount of Orwellian Revision on the memory?

And so, again, the concept of truth is called into question. He creates a distinction between truth in experience (because you remember a woman with glasses, technically you did “experience” her) and truth in reality.

“For that brief moment, the reality of your conscious experience was a long-haired woman without eyeglasses, but the historical fact has become inert; it has left no trace, thanks to the contamination of memory that came one second after you glimpsed her.”

I am struck by the phrase “the historical fact becomes inert.” How many of our memories are contaminated (through no fault of our own) by Orwellian Revision? Does our mind alter memories to suit our needs? Preserve emotional health? Strengthen our own agenda? Dennett’s discussion also stays within the parameters of concrete details, such has hair length and eyeglasses, but what happens to the more abstract details? Do we put an Orwellian spin on the way someone looks at us, or the way he or she speaks to us? It makes me wonder if Orwellian Revision is what allows us to look back on an experience and see it with humor when the original experience was painful or frustrating. If we experienced it “truthfully,” Orwellian Revision shouldn’t be possible. And so I am left wondering not only if we employ Orwellian Revision, but why.

photo © Bartzuza | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

“Do or Do Not. There Is No Try.”

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One year ago, I launched this site. I was so excited, inspired, and I brimmed with grandiose ideas of what I would write here.
 
Yesterday, I considered going dark. I’ve spent so little time here, and I have not produced the kind of work I anticipated. I had a very “why bother?” feeling toward my blog, and it made me sad.
 
I have been trying to give pause to any type of decision or reaction these days. I’m immersed in a new career, struggling in my current role as a membership counselor (read:salesperson) while I build my education toward my true goal of becoming a personal trainer. As of late, I’ve been feeling doubtful, wondering if I’d made a mistake.
 
I text Geekface during my shift at the gym last night: Maybe this was a mistake.
His response: No babe. Don’t think that. Keep with the whole CPT path. You got your foot in the door, now go with it.
 
I began to think about what I was fighting against, and realized that my frustrations are very temporary. This is merely a transitional phase, and as much as I want to be absolutely amazing at my job as a membership counselor, it’s not the end goal. I have something far more important to focus on.
 
This morning I wondered about the psychology behind determination, and though I didn’t find exactly what I was looking for, I did come across this article.  
The entire article resonated with me, but this, in particular, made the light shine bright:
 
“Commitment means believing in the purpose of the task, understanding its nature, and transforming yourself into a native of the endeavor.”
 
I am not to consider myself a membership counselor. I am to think of myself as a fitness professional–a “native of the endeavor.” When I am studying, I am excited about what I am learning, I am determined to master the material. At work, I am only determined to master the role of membership counselor because I’m frustrated by the struggle–not because it’s what I want to do. 
 
I have 25 days until my exam. For the next 25 days, I will go to work, smile bright, and do what I need to do, knowing that I am committed to the endeavor. When I am trying to fall asleep at night, I go over formulas and definitions in my head. Target heart rate is determined by 220 – age x percentage…Body Mass Index is calculated by 703 – weight over height squared…
 
This morning I renewed my GoDaddy hosting subscription, so DTU will stay live for another year. I commited to this blog. I may not spend as much time here as I should, but it’s mine. I created it, and I can’t give up on it. I intend to return to the “big questions” and the explorations of their answers. Today, I focused on my own big question, and DTU helped me articulate the answer.

When the Hare Becomes the Tortoise

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A month ago I announced a shift in my career path from teaching into the fitness industry. Over the past four weeks, my vision for my future went from ideal on paper, to blurry and chaotic, to challenging but doable.

I’ve been working in the gym where I am a member (hooray free membership!) as part of the membership sales team. My job is fun, fast, and challenging, and I’m learning a lot about the operations of the gym. I’ve also had the opportunity to chat with some of the trainers, and gain some valuable insight into how I want to approach my certification, which specializations would serve me best, and most importantly, how some of the ideas I had were great on paper, but are not actually the way I should go.

I chatted with a trainer who said teaching the group classes has really helped grow his individual client base. Group fitness certification was probably fourth or fifth on my list of added specializations, but it’s quickly gone to second. I’ve gotten other tidbits of great advice from other trainers, and it’s helping me really shape my approach to this career change.

The most important thing I’ve learned so far is that I can’t go full throttle into this. That’s a challenge I’ve faced many times in my life due to my impulsive nature, and while it worked really well for me when I transitioned into teaching, here, it will work against me. Taking my time with this, slowing down and formulating a plan is the only successful way. I was gunning to finish my certification in two months, just because I wanted to be impressive and make this transition very quickly. But that’s not going to work.

When I became a teacher, I realized that I knew the material, but not really how to teach. This time, I know how to teach, but I don’t know the material. I am a student again. And I need to spend the right amount of time with my education. I can’t race the clock. I have to focus on effective learning. Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things if I finish in the first week of March, as opposed to April? What matters more is that I gain the knowledge I need to be a great personal trainer. No one will care how fast I got certified if I suck at it.

This week is the last step in preparing to dive in. I have several odds and ends to tie up, and then I can really spend the right amount of time focused on my studies and using my time effectively. It’s been a struggle, but I’ve turned the corner from confused and frustrated to focused and driven. I have confidence this will work, and faith it’s a great choice. The work will be hard, and the change will be slow, but I’m finally equipped to handle that, and to learn how to be slow and steady.

Dear Academia: An Open Letter

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Dear Academia-

First, let me start by saying that I love you. I have always loved you, and will always love you. The time I have spent with you as student and instructor has been glorious, enlightening, and inspiring. These things make it so very hard for me to say goodbye to you now. I wish I could put this more delicately, but…

It’s not me. It’s you.

For the past four years, I have tried to make you my career, the calling that would sustain me. I started as an adjunct, as we all do, I suspect, with hopes that building enough experience would offer me a wider range of more secure opportunities. You were my sole source of income for a time. A very brief time, though. I have always needed a supplementary income to continue my pursuit of you.

As I am now halfway through my fourth academic year with you, I find myself with even fewer options than when I first began. The job offerings are few and far between, those that do exist are so low-paying it is insulting, and institutions are capping the number of classes adjuncts are permitted to teach. This leaves us with few viable options. One is to teach at a variety of institutions at once (if we can even make two or three college schedules work together), another is to supplement with another job. Sometimes you offer full-time, non-tenure track positions. But these, too, have a shelf life (if you can even get an interview). They expire after two or three years (or less) with no promise of renewal. I would hate to find myself here again in three years. Your demand for a PhD with no promise of actual employment after that 5- to 7-year investment is unfair and an unrealistic expectation. I have finally resigned that I must find a new way to cultivate this passion.

My new flame is the fitness industry. We’ve been flirting on and off for a while now, and though it started off as a harmless personal interest, our relationship has become more serious. I didn’t plan it; it just sort of happened. I spoke with several people in the fitness industry (personal trainers in particular); I read articles that talked about how lawyers, accountants, and teachers are all leaving their once-prestigious and formerly lucrative fields to break into this one. It is the fastest growing industry in the country, and shows no signs of slowing. There is a bright future in this world.

I’m sorry to say that this is your loss. I am the voice of one of thousands of adjuncts you’ve used up and tossed aside, preying on our love for learning and teaching. You use us as a money-saver, a way to cut corners. Some may teach accordingly. But so many of us still show up every day, and we teach with that passion and drive you and I once had. We show up for the students who need us, who are inspired and encouraged by sitting in our classrooms. We change lives. We are bright and worthy of so much more. It is heartbreaking that you can’t see us for what we truly are. Many of us are the backbone of your institutions. And yet, here I sit, earning a whopping $600/month because my classes were taken away from me. And you promise me no incentive, no future, no security.

Today I had an interview at the gym where I am a member. I was hired on the spot because the Club Manager spent one hour with me and saw my potential, my dedication, and my drive.  He knows that I will not be entry level for long. He already talked about my potential future years from now. He encouraged my plan to become a certified personal trainer, nutrition specialist, etc. He showed more enthusiasm for my desire to be a part of this industry than you’ve ever shown me in four years. They saw my value. And they offered me a future.

I am and always will be a teacher. But now, I’ll be teaching people how to be fit and healthy. I’ll be inspiring people to change their lives in a different way. I will be compensated beyond anything you will ever be willing to offer me. I’m taking my skills to a place where they will build me a future. I can’t be stuck here anymore.

We’ll still see each other from time to time. After all, I’ll need some help transitioning, and the least you can do is foot the bill for my certifications. I’m sure you can give me another class or two, just for a little while longer. You owe me that much, at least. I can use you as a means to an end. You know how that goes, don’t you?

Thanks for everything. See ya around.

~N.

non sum qualis eram*

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I haven’t written anything since before Christmas, and the reasons for that all add up to a very difficult transition from 2012 into 2013. I’m not about to make excuses or new year resolutions for myself or my blog. I consider my blog an extension of myself; when I am lost, it is lost. I find myself struggling and uninspired, and when I try to write from that place, you wind up with what a trusted bloggy friend called “fluff pieces.” I bristled at the phrase, but… he’s right. The majority of the later pieces on here have been far from the original intention of this space.

I am currently without steady employment (I lost the majority of my classes to low enrollment and full-time faculty), and have exhausted all of the avenues I can think of to find a job in my fields of either education or editing. My efforts to draw more business to NCD Editing Services have been futile. I am facing a dead end in every direction.

Disturb the Universe is facing its own dead ends, too. Every attempt I’ve made to ignite inspiration have been short-lived. I have always been a writer who writes from the urge to write, not the discipline of doing it on a regular basis. When the right idea presents itself, I am prolific. The right angle has not presented itself to sustain the original intention of this blog in the long-term.

I don’t have the wherewithal to see this as a challenge. I’m tired of walls. I’m doing as much as I can to not wallow, drawing on the lessons I’ve learned in the past to wait it out. Patience and a bit of hope that it’ll all become clear. Disturb the Universe may not actually be meant for what I originally intended. Perhaps the same can be said for my career. If none of it is working, then something must change.  But I know that I cannot write nor can I live through hasty action with no real thought. I cannot react in panic. Worse mistakes and choices are made this way.

I hope for changes in 2013, but I do not promise them. I hope to find the right angles for my career and my creativity. Until then, I will continue to support the blogging community as a reader, enjoying what my friends in the universe create. Perhaps opportunities and inspiration will come from these places. At the very least, I can stay connected to the community without compromising the content in this space.

*I am not such as I was.

Merry Xcess: On Christmas and Gluttony

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Today was rumored to be the end of the world, according to a largely misinterpreted, and urban legendized Mayan time system. People seemed to truly believe this as a possibility, and yet, the gluttony of the season raged on. Black Friday started before Thanksgiving, stores were heavily advertising that they were going to be open on Thanksgiving Day, and people continue to rush out and spend excessive amounts of money on  extravagant gifts.

I find myself growing less and less joyous around the holiday season every year. I have no desire to decorate, participate, be merry… I loathe the idea of gifts, disgusted by the pressure and distortion of what this season is truly supposed to be. This year, in the wake of Hurricane Sandy and now the Newtown tragedy, I suppose I hoped for more giving, more charity, more kindness, and less greed, selfishness, and debt-creation.

At what point will we remember what the holiday season is supposed to be? If these things do not drive us into action, perhaps nothing will. Christmas isn’t a religious holiday anymore. It’s largely a commercial one. Yes, it certainly has been for years, but it’s gotten so distorted, we have gotten so out of control with what this season is supposed to be, that it’s no longer special.

We’re so quick to use social media to blather on about opinions, positions on tough topics, share coupons, groupons, steals, and deals… wouldn’t it be nice if we decided, as a collective, to truly participate in the season of giving by actually giving to those in need? So many proclaimed how blessed they felt to have their children with them as the news of Newtown unfolded. Everyone was very comfortable offering prayers, comfort, and support for hurricane victims through messages and photos on Facebook. But I suspect that is more for their own conscience and less for those who really need those prayers and words of comfort. Without a home, I doubt they are on Facebook. Their gratitude was, however, apparent to those volunteering their time and donating supplies. I know, because I saw it for myself. And I definitely didn’t see it on Facebook.

Would it be so terrible, one year, to scale back on the gifts for each other, and give gifts of toys, clothing, food, and money to people who truly have nothing? It’s a win/win for everyone. Adults might be reminded of our role in society to be leaders for the younger generations. Children would learn a valuable lesson in giving. I’m not even suggesting not giving any gifts to loved ones, but sharing some of those things. Little ones can be told that Santa asked them to be a special Santa’s helper for children who are needy. Elf on the Shelf wants them to choose a toy or an article of clothing that a boy or girl their own age might like… be creative. It might right the ship, just a little bit.

Consider this idea next year (or even this year if you haven’t finished shopping). Make it a new tradition in your families. Find ways to reach out to people who need it most. My mother taught me and always reminded me to consider what it’s like in someone else’s position. “How would you feel?” She would ask. I consider that a major brick in the foundation of who I am, and I never forget it. It is what drove me to put some time and effort into Hurricane Relief. It is what drives me to give donations to various organizations and causes when I can. It’s what doesn’t allow me to be satisfied by making a negligible statement on Facebook or Twitter. We need to do more. We need to be more. We need to spend more money, time, and energy putting some decency and kindness back into our society. Perhaps it might solve some other problems, too.

Obsessed With Dedication?

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Several times a week, motivational messages and photos are posted to my gym’s Facebook page. About two weeks ago, this one appeared:

Meme

Initially, I had the intended response, a silent yeah! because surely I cannot be counted among the lazy, and therefore, I am not obsessed, but dedicated to my fitness.

But then I began to think about these words… obsessed…dedicated…lazy. It’s not exactly a message of positivity, but of enabling and discrimination. Per Merriam-Webster:

obsession: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly : compelling motivation <an obsession with profits>

dedication 2: a devoting or setting aside for a particular purpose

4: self-sacrificing devotion <her dedication to the cause>

Obsession is defined as “disturbing,” but then “broadly” defined as compelling motivation. “Motivation” is a positive word, isn’t it? (It’s only when it morphs to “motive” that it becomes ugly.) But “obsession” is often given a negative connotation. It’s classified as unhealthy and, as the definition indicates, unreasonable.

Dedication is described as “devoting or setting aside,” but then goes into “self-sacrificing” as part of its meaning. Normally when we talk about someone being dedicated, it’s with praise, virtue, respect. But with a word like “sacrifice” in the mix, particularly of the self, does that not qualify as unreasonable?

Assuming we stick with the knee-jerk connotations of both obsessed and dedication (the former being positive; the latter, negative), we introduce the idea then of the lazy.

lazy: 1 a : disinclined to activity or exertion: not energetic or vigorous

b : encouraging inactivity or indolence

This is problematic for several reasons. Even if this is targeted at people who are “disinclined to activity or exertion” on a regular basis, lazy people are not the only ones who might consider someone’s dedication to be extreme or obsessive. Can’t this also be applied to the jealous, the negative, the critical, the disenchanted, the fearful, the ignorant? Laziness does not automatically make someone critical of those who are fit.

Furthermore, this message, albeit subliminal, does not necessarily motivate. In fact, it could promote the very thing it attempts to decry: obsession. At what point does dedicated become obsessive? Where is the line drawn? Clearly it cannot be drawn by the lazy, because they cannot possibly relate. But doesn’t this imply that no level of dedication is bad? After all, according to its meaning, obsession does compel motivation.

This message is dangerous, especially in an environment that is meant to promote healthy living and welcome people of all fitness levels. This alienates people who might consider their fitness level lower, and therefore, compared to the “dedicated” they are “lazy.” This might encourage the easily influenced to work harder, but not understand the difference between laziness and limitation, and therefore develop an unhealthy mindset toward fitness.

Dedication means different things to different people. My level of dedication might look like obsession to someone else. I train 5-6 days/week. I have been working with a trainer, and I try to take classes and do things that challenge me. I was called “crazy” by at least three people when I mentioned I went to a 1,000-calorie-burning boot camp last Saturday morning. My trainer, on the other hand, was very proud of me for pushing showing up and that hard. Who is correct? Am I obsessed or dedicated?

We already, as a society, have an unhealthy relationship with exercise. It seems to be all or nothing, with so few taking a moderate path. Either you’re a gym rat, or a couch potato. Both come with stigmas, yet, moderation is seldom seen as the solution or middle-ground. But to promote the idea that there is no such thing as obsession only continues to fuel unattainable, unrealistic goals, which will result in absolutely nothing that resembles a healthy mind and body.

“In the confusion we stay with each other, happy to be together, speaking without uttering a single word.” ~Walt Whitman

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I was brainstorming a self-flagellating post on my way home from the gym after a miserable, frustrating, and disappointing morning. It was going to be a sort of woe is me meets I’m never going to meet my own standards because my standards are unreasonable… all very maudlin.

I picked up the mail, and amid the junk and nonsense was a card addressed to both me and Geekface. I was reminded again (I remembered this morning) that tomorrow marks a year since Geekface made the bold move across the Hudson to live in sin with a cute Jersey Nerd. Which also means that yesterday was a year since our first fight. Which was exactly about the bold move across the Hudson to live in sin.

Ahhh. Good times.

He was supposed to packing throughout the week. I arrived in Queens on that Saturday morning to find boxes vomiting clothing, half a kitchen strewn about, and piles upon piles of… stuff.

“I threw so much out, though.” He said.

I can still feel my left eye twitching and my OCD-organization brain going into hyperdrive and abandoning the notion that we’d “be out of there in a couple of hours.” He didn’t intentionally make a promise he couldn’t keep. He just didn’t see what I saw.

Even in packing, sorting, throwing out, we laughed. We weren’t stressed. We were excited. Maybe a little nervous. Both of us were making a commitment to another person that we hadn’t made in quite some time. But, just like all the days leading up to this one, we took it step by step.

I sat on the floor amidst his clothing, poking fun at some of the fashion choices of his past, sorting, bagging, eliminating. Some shirts became cleaning rags. Most of the clothing became donations. Well… they were supposed to be donations.

“Eight bags. We can’t throw all this out! They’re all practically brand new!” Geekface was getting his first glimpse of my charitable heart. We were pretty much done with all the sorting/packing/tossing, and he assured me there was a clothing bin in the parking lot across the street. We brought all eight bags down to my truck, drove across the lot, and found the spot where the bin used to be.

“Oh, come on. There’s got to be someplace we can take it,” I insisted. He humored me, and I will never forget his patience in that moment. We went to a few local churches (because, you know, it’s so easy to drive around Queens on a Saturday afternoon during holiday season), but no one was willing to take them. We even found a Salvation Army center, but they were closed and the big sign on the door said “Do not leave donations here.” It was stressing me out.

An hour later, we’re still eight bags heavy. I wanted to bring the clothes with us. Geekface had finally run out of patience. “I’m not taking this stuff with us. We won’t be able to fit everything. We tried, we can’t find anywhere to donate them, so that’s that. I’m done.”

I didn’t press, as much as I disagreed. I settled for the thought counting as enough, but it bothered me to toss eight bags of perfectly good clothes into the trash bins outside his building. And he knew it.

“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” I laughed at how well he knew me. Throwing eight bags of clothing away made it worth that reassurance.

Finally, with the truck packed to the brim with his belongings and deconstructed furniture, it was time to tie the mattress to the roof of the car. While we were sitting in the car getting our hands warm (pulling ropes with cold hands is painful), he was tooling around on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Googling how to tie knots.”

I text all my friends a fond farewell, and told them to watch the news for a report of a mattress flying off the roof of a Kia Sorento on the FDR.

After several pull-it-throughs, make-it-tighters, and that-oughta-do-its, we were off. I was in charge of keeping an eye on the mattress, which meant spending the entire ride with my head pressed against the passenger window, looking awkwardly at the front corner flopping up and down.

We pulled over approximately 17 times, because I was certain the ropes were going to snap and unravel. Each stop ended with, “Babe… it’s not going anywhere. It’s going to move a little because of the wind,” to which I replied, “Half an hour ago you were googling knot tying techniques.”

All of us made it safely back to Jersey. It didn’t take us long to unload, and given he was on the third floor of his building in Queens, moving everything into my first-floor apartment was a breeze. I’d already made space in the closet and dresser for his things, and the rest went into the spare room for another time. We were exhausted and dirty. But we were home.

And here we are, a fleeting year later, the mattress still secure.