Guess who's back?

Guess who's back?
Originally uploaded by yonas1.

That's right. New rear derailleur. Shimano Tiagra is a slightly better upgrade to the Shimano Sora derailleur I had on there before. After picking my bike up at City Bikes in Adams Morgan yesterday, I really wanted to go for a long ride because I've been going through withdrawal. As soon as I walked out of the store, it began raining. Go figure. I still rode home and switched gears up and down the whole way, just to test things out. Waaaaayyyyy smoother than the Sora. I couldn't believe that I could tell that much of a difference with only one minor upgarde. Makes me wonder how nice Dura Ace would be.....

At any rate, I'm ready to hit the road again pretty hard. As soon as this damn weather clears up. And gets warmer. Terror on the Tarmac is BACK. Ha...

Dead Sora

Dead Sora
Originally uploaded by yonas1.

The other evening I was cycling back to my apartment from Adams Morgan when a paper bag in the street got caught on my right foot. I looked down and tried to kick it off, eventually managing to get it off my foot. The bag then got caught onto my rear derailleur and I looked down and kept on cycling, thinking it wasn't a big deal. Well, it was a big deal. The bag ended up getting sucked into the two small gears attached to the derailleur and jammed up the entire thing. It was so bad that it ripped the rear derailleur completely off of my bike and made a very horrible, loud sound in the process.

I caught the attention of a few people on the sidewalk from all the noise it was making. At this point the bike wasn't even pushable, so I had to carry it home on my shoulders. It's a good thing I was only a block and a half away. Better yet, it's a good thing I didn't tip over and fall into the way of a moving vehicle.

Cyclists: beware of paper and plastic bags in the middle of the road! Avoid them at all costs if you can.

Typical. Shitty. Monday.

Today is one of the worst Mondays I've had in a long while. I wake up this morning (running really late, of course) only to realize that I had forgotten my wallet in my car last night. Being that my car is currently parked in the opposite direction of the Metro (with respect to the location of my apartment), I decided that the only way to retrieve my wallet from my car and show up to work at a semi-respectable time would be to cycle. Fine.

Realizing that it may be colder than what I'm usually comfortable riding in, I scurry around my apartment searching for my gloves. My apartment is currently a complete mess, so naturally....I only find one of my gloves. Time was ticking, so I quickly ditched it and darted out of my apartment.

Yes: it was butt-ass cold outside (by my standards). I cycled over to my car and was relieved to see that none of the windows were bashed in by a crackhead trying to retrieve my wallet from dashboard inlet under the stereo. I grabbed it and continued to hustle fast to work....the entire time my dry, ashy hands were suffering from the cold ass autumn air. Not cool.

I get to work and ALL DAY I had the pleasure of figuring out how to hack my code in order to get a stupid .png image to appear correctly in IE6. That's right. I was at work for 9.5 hours today and I finally one stupid effing image to appear correctly in one stupid effing browser. Why do we still support IE6 at work you say? Or maybe you're asking, why is it that we developers are required to create new things that are not only inconsistent with the rest of our site, but are known to explode in IE6? Beats the hell out of me. That's a question better suited for the web professionals people that run the ship.

Oh, and it doesn't end there. By the time I left the office, a light rain had begun to fall. And it was still butt-ass cold. I grab my bike and walk to the Metro. I get down to the platform and hop on the next green line train to pull through....I realize two stops later -- at L'Enfant Plaza -- that I'm heading in the wrong direction. I didn't go apeshit, though, because hey -- it was the cherry on top of the crappy sundae that is Monday.

Well, I think I've reached my bitch and moan quota for the rest of the year*. I'm at home now, trying to relax, and waiting for my sushi to be delivered. Let's hope the sushi man actually shows up. I'd like for at least something to go right today.

*said bitching will exceed all of everyone's wildest dreams if McCain gets the presidency.

I'm an uncle! Again!

Lene; posted by yonas1.

On August 26, 2008, 1:33pm Lene was born at a healthy 8lbs 10oz. She's considerably smaller than Nati at his birth, and will probably stay considerably smaller than him throughout their lives!

It was great to go to the hospital to see her and my sister that night. The good thing about Holy Cross is that they have 24 hour visitation. I was a little nervous when I was coming home from work that I wouldn't have the chance to visit, since most hospitals don't allow visitors past 8pm.

When I arrived, of course I didn't hesitate to bust out my camera after a few minutes to snap some shots. The nurse that was weighing Lene got a little testy with me claiming that she didn't want to be in any pictures. I got over her attitude and continued to shoot.

Lene was asleep when I arrived and remained asleep my entire visit. I didn't get to witness any action out of her, save for a few sneezes here and there and getting fussy at times. Hopefully when I go back on Thursday evening she'll liven up! But even that is wishful thinking.

In any case, welcome to the world, Lene.

Very Important

Chevolution

A couple of Thursdays ago, Ariele and I saw "Chevolution," a documentary about what could arguably be the most famous portrait of the 20th century. Undoubtedly you have already seen it on tee-shirts, bumper stickers, posters, billboards, coffee mugs, flags, and other paraphernalia. It is a black and white photograph of Che Guevara taken by Alberto Korda. The image shows Che standing on a stage in front of Cuban supporters following a terrorist attack at a nearby harbor. His face is expressionless, but somehow still filled with a look that has come to be interpreted as that of an uncompromising revolutionary.

Backing up a number of years, I remember first noticing the image around high school. Then, going through college, I started noticing it on tee shirts everywhere. I didn't quite understand what made this image of this man so popular. After being inundated with the image, as it was ubiquitous on college campuses, it drove me to do some research on my own. After learning as much as my interest would allow, I was actually kind of shocked at how many people -- especially young people -- idolized Guevara. Yes, he was an intelligent medical doctor. Yes, he had amazing ideals. Yes, he did everything in his power to help the poor of Latin America. But "everything in his power" included being a ruthless savage in the name of justice. The manner with which he pursued the Revolution was not only incredibly violent but also most certainly hypocritical.

What really piques my curiosity is that Che admirers of today choose to overlook his knack for guerrila combat and prisoner assassinations. The ones that don't simply absolve themselves somehow of associating with that aspect of Guevara's life. In any case, would Che be as idolized as he is without the existence of Korda's photograph? We may never really know the answer to that question, but in my personal opinion, I don't think so. Korda, without knowing it, made an immortal icon out of a man in under 5 or 6 seconds (the documentary explains that Che was standing on that stage for only the briefest moment).

The executive producer stayed after the movie for a Q & A session. She stressed the fact that this was a documentary about a photograph and not a documentary about a man's life. That helped a bit to keep peoples' questions on-topic. It was a great experience to check the movie out and I highly recommend you do the same. Although Silverdocs is over, it should be released on DVD relatively soon.

Unconscious

Last night Ariele and I went to have dinner with a couple of friends at Selam Restaurant on U Street. When we got back to the apartment, around midnight, we were surprised to see my next door neighbor completely unconscious in the corridor. He was about three feet away from his front door and his motorcycle helmet was close to his body.

My first instinctual thought was, "man....he's really drunk." But as we approached his body, I didn't smell any alcohol and began to worry. Ariele kicked him a couple of times and began to yell in a loud voice, "señor! señor!!" He wasn't at all responsive. I knelt down and shook him a couple of times trying to rouse him, but to no avail. Ariele then took our bikes into my apartment and told me to call an ambulance if I couldn't find a pulse. I stuck my right index finger just beneath his nose and could tell that he was breathing. At that moment he let out a very faint grunt and began to move just a little bit. I decided to knock on his apartment door; he lives with a few other guys.

I knocked twice and for whatever reason it took one of his roommates forever to come to the damn door. None of them speak English, by the way. Not even our passed out protagonist. The man who answered the door opened it to just a sliver and peeked out with his left eye. He's blind out of the right. I told him in Spanish that his friend is unconscious and completely unresponsive in the hallway. He seemed surprisingly calm and got on the phone immediately. It's unclear as to whom exactly he was calling, but he went back into the apartment for about three minutes. At this point I'm like, "what the fuck." I'm in the corridor with this poor man and his roommates seemed preoccupied. I told myself to call the police if they didn't come back out within a minute.

Just before I reached for my phone, another one of his roommates emerges from the apartment. "What happened?" he asks me. I tell him that his friend is passed out, unresponsive, and most likely completely drunk. I ask him in an indirect manner if his buddy drinks a lot, and he avoided the question altogether. "Where did you find him?" the man asks next. Now that question caught me completely off-guard. What the hell was he implying? That I found the guy passed out somewhere and dragged him home? "I found him right here," I replied. "Just like this...he hasn't moved." The man asked again, "Just like this? Nowhere else?" How curious, I thought to myself. "Yes," I replied. "Right here."

The roommate then unzips the man's jacket and puts his palm on the drunk(?) man's chest and revealed an expression of relief across his face. The man's heart was indeed beating. He looks back at me and gives a thumbs up with a small smile. "Is he going to be ok?" I ask. "yeah, yeah," replies the roommate.

At that moment he forces the drunk(?) man up and for a moment, albeit very brief, he showed signs of waking up. He grunts a couple of times and I felt a bit more relieved.

I retreated to my apartment with still a bit of concern that I couldn't quite shed. Ariele tells me later on that she most definitely smelled alcohol and that indeed the man was drunk. And I couldn't help but wonder why people drink to the point of licking the honey off of Death's razor-sharp ax.

When it comes to getting drunk, I guess I'm lucky to know what self-control is all about.