
<?phpxml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<rss version="2.0" 
xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"
xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
>
<channel>
<title>SagaByte / tbee80 / All</title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com</link>
<description>SagaByte rss feeds</description>
<pubDate>Mon, 21 Apr 2008 20:37:40 -0400</pubDate>
<language>en</language>
<item>
<title><![CDATA[Fast Food Spaghetti]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/fast-food-spaghetti/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/fast-food-spaghetti/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 21 Apr 2008 20:37:40 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/fast-food-spaghetti/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I wonder if there is any other place in the world that considers spaghetti fast food fare. I know we do. Spaghetti is served in McDonald's  here, as well as all the other fast food places. They come in single servings, and sometimes have hotdog, because kids love those, and they come sweet. You just order it like you would a burger, and it'll get served in a take-away pack.I didn't realize that it was only done here until I went looking for spaghetti at a McDonald's in Holland. They looked at me funny there. Spaghetti is my ultimate favorite food, aside from steak. I have to have it in my parties, and it's what I look for in other parties. When I go to a restaurant that serves it, there is a 60 percent chance that I will be ordering that from the menu. I grew up loving spaghetti and though people find it weird that it is considered a fast food item here, I am quite thankful that it is.Several years ago I had my birthday and I had no one to celebrate it with because it was a school/work day. Almost feeling depressed I got into my car and drove to the nearest fast food plaace. I went to the drive-thru window and order two servings of spaghetti, fries, and a large soft drink.I tell you, I sat in my car in the parking lot and I ate my two servings of spaghetti, oblivious to all the people who took a look at me gobbling in front of my steering wheel. My mood got better so fast I was smiling by the time I finished my food.I love spaghetti in all its forms and colors. And though spaghetti as the Italians made it may not have been made to be considered an item in a fast food menu, I really am glad that it is on the menu. Believe me, if they stop serving spaghetti here in the fast food chains, I'll be first in the picket line. You can count on it.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Karaoke Spots]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/karaoke-spots/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/karaoke-spots/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 13 Apr 2008 01:03:18 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/karaoke-spots/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Everyone knows karaoke. Here in the Philippines, karaokes are those machines without screens attached to them. When screens come with the machine, we call it videoke. It has become quite a pastime for many people, particularly for those who work regular 8-hour jobs. Videoke bars would be packed at the end of a working day. The pre-dinner crowd would start having drinks and start picking songs. Tables take turns at the mic and voices would ring. Filipinos love to sing, and it's just fortunate that at least 75% of the population can do it well, so sitting in a videoke place is not much of an ordeal. It could be quite pleasant, actually. We do have those people who can't carry a tune, though. And like the rest of the people-who-can-carry-a-tune crowd, they like to pick up the mic and belt out a song every now and then. Good-natured comments abound and the audience would mostly take it in stride. BUT.not when the song being sung is &quot;My Way&quot; by Frank Sinatra.When karaoke, and then videoke became popular here, My Way would be sung about 3 or 4 times a night, and that's a conservative estimate. The older generation would ask for it again and again, and each singer would put his own twist to the song. It became so popular that bars would have at least two copies of the disc with the song in it, in case one goes wonky. After some time, however, people began to fight over the song. When a particularly tone-deaf person starts singing the song, instead of the usual good-natured comments, rumbles of disgust would ensue. Some would even boo. It had gotten so bad that bar patrons would get into fistfights over it. There was even a rumored shooting incident.Eventually videoke bar owners got smart. They banned the song and took it out of their song lists. I could never understand why My Way had that effect. Maybe I never will. But perhaps if I asked a person who got beat up why, he'd just say I&quot; don't know but I did it my way.&quot;<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Getting Out of a Traffic Ticket]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/getting-out-of-a-traffic-ticket/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/getting-out-of-a-traffic-ticket/</comments>
<pubDate>Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:33:24 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/getting-out-of-a-traffic-ticket/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Traffic enforcers are legendary in the Philippines, particularly in the capital city, Manila. I worked there for 3 years and every time I brought my car to work, I was always afraid I was doing something wrong. They'd stand along the main road in their blue shirts. Sometimes there would be just 1, but sometimes as many as 10 would be there. We have a traffic scheme here where plates that end in certain numbers should be off the street on a particular day. If you make the mistake of being there when you shouldn't, they swoop down on you and give you a ticket.Sometimes they flag you for &quot;swerving&quot; or for driving on the bus lane. Every day became an adventure and to quote my friend, it had gotten to the point where just seeing the blue shirts would strike fear into our hearts.One time I got caught swerving. I was almost out of gas so when I saw a gas station, I just made a hard right to get there. Well my license got confiscated and I was quite irritated at my own stupidity.Many months later I was driving along the exact same spot when I decided to get gas. I made a signal to head right, and slowly inched across the road. As expected, a blue shirt came to me and told me I was swerving. I argued, of course, telling him I put my signal on, I made no sudden moves, and I looked before I even started moving to the other lane.He insisted I was swerving. Finally in frustration I threw up my hands and said &quot;do you know why I know I wasn't swerving&quot; He asked why. &quot;BECAUSE I GOT CAUGHT HERE ONCE AND I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I SHOULD NOT DO!&quot;He looked at me like I was some sort of freak because he couldn't figure out my logic. After a time he looked at my shirt (I had a V-neck on that looked like a scrub suit) and asked if I was a doctor. I told him no, that I was a lawyer. That did it. He sent me on my way but not after I saw him shake and scratch his head. I think I made sense. Don't you<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[I am Fat]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/i-am-fat-1/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/i-am-fat-1/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 06 Apr 2008 20:51:35 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/i-am-fat-1/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[As a kid I was a skinny girl. I was short, dark, and skinny and it never really mattered what I ate or how much I ate. I ate like a construction worker with nothing to show for it. People would always comment about how I should be taking vitamins to grow taller and to gain weight. It lasted till I turned 13 and I finally got into sports. I shot up about 6 inches in a span of 4 years. Unfortunately, I also packed on the pounds. By the time I was in law school I was about 30 pounds overweight, and the sedentary student lifestyle didn't help any.It didn't bother me because thanks to my parents' genes, I always had a waist. It wasn't much of an hourglass figure, but it was an hourglass figure nonetheless. It still is. And thanks to sports I was, and still am, very limber and quick on my feet.The only problems arose when my clothes would begin to tighten at the seams. I'll ponder a bit, then I'd just wear bigger sizes, or I'd exercise a bit and I'd be back to a comfortable weight.It pissed me off, however, when people who knew me as a kid would look at me, look me over, and blurt out &quot;what happened to you&quot; like I grew another nose or maybe horns and a tail. Well nothing happened to me. A standard answer would be &quot;Nothing. I grew prettier,&quot; and I'd just go away or ignore that person. If it was someone I was close to, I didn't mind so much.After a few comments, however, I began to wonder. Why is it that people only notice weight gain/loss Why is it that only a very select few would say a simple &quot;How are you, it's been too long&quot; Of course there's been too many articles about self-image and how the media often equated skinny with sexy. Too many articles to count, and yes, I've read a lot of them. I'm sure most of the people who were exposed to the same articles have been influenced by them, hence the idiotic comments. But it never really hits you until you feel its effect when a person lets out a tactless comment about your weight.Earlier I was walking in the mall when a lady approached me with a brochure for weight loss. Did she pick me out from the crowd Do they get training on how to spot those people they think are overweight and swoop on them like birds of prey I'm a size 12 on a 5'5&quot; frame. Do I fit their profile I bit back a nasty comment and just went on my way. They're losing my business anyway.I have no doubt that that person got a lot of snide remarks from people she approached.  Perhaps they didn't feel that they need to lose weight or maybe like me, they're comfortable in their own skin. I also have no doubt that she got a lot of business, too, from people who felt that they needed it, because they've heard one too many remarks about their weight, or because they felt their health was in danger.Things will remain the same for quite some time, I'm sure. Fat comments will be thrown left and right. I guess I'm just thankful that even if that happens, I'll be happily oblivious to them. I'm comfortable in my own skin, and that's that.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Funeral Lyrics]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/funeral-lyrics/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/funeral-lyrics/</comments>
<pubDate>Fri, 04 Apr 2008 19:26:25 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/funeral-lyrics/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[An artist friend passed away recently and we went to his funeral along with other artists. I've been to a lot of funerals before, and most of them are somber affairs. Tears, black clothes, flowers abound, while music about meeting the Maker plays on in the background.The tears were there. He was well loved and I shed a lot of them myself. Black clothes were there too, except for some of the more flamboyant artists who wore purple as their funeral color. There were a lot of flowers. But the similarities to other funerals stop here. Music about meeting the Maker was suspiciously absent. One guy sang a cappella about farewells. But that was the only song. After that what we heard were drums. Different kinds. Different beats. Several percussionists lined up along the low retaining wall of the memorial garden, and just started pounding on their drums.It was a bit surreal for me because I was used to solemn and somber funerals, where the slightest noise is frowned upon by the elders. Yet here they were, making a lot of noise that filled the otherwise quiet morning. After the initial surprise I found myself tapping my foot to the beat. They played and played and played until the coffin was lowered and covered. I actually found myself smiling, thinking that this sort of a sendoff was just the right kind for an artist, who was a percussionist himself.All in all it was an almost happy affair. I don't know why that fact felt right, since I knew I was really really going to miss him. Maybe it's because we all believed he wouldn't want us in tears. He was such a happy person.So I guess that's right. Weird as it may sound, it was happy funeral for a happy person.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[PED XING]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/ped-xing/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/ped-xing/</comments>
<pubDate>Tue, 01 Apr 2008 21:57:03 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/ped-xing/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[In the Philippines, street names and street signs often get changed. I've been a victim of this so many times already. Imagine being given directions to get to a particular street and you find out that that street practically does not exist!Street signs are the same. One time it says &quot;one way&quot; and the next thing you know there's a tiny line below it that actually says &quot;From 6 am - 6 pm only&quot; and there was no notice before it was changed.Aside from being sources of frustration, however, street signs have become a source of amusement for us. One sign here said &quot;PED XING&quot;  (Pedestrian Crossing). While I'm sure that this is a common sign in most countries, particularly &quot;XING,&quot; abbreviations in signs are not very popular here. Words are spelled out. It took me a while to figure this one out because it was in the same size and format as those signs on streets named after famous (albeit dead) Filipinos, and it sounds like a Filipino name when you say it out loud. So I always thought it was a person until I stared at it one day and a light bulb went off in my head.I found myself laughing. When I asked around, however, it turned out that it wasn't just me. Other people were confused as well. My sisters and I decided to play a joke on my brother-in-law's best friend. We asked him if he knew what it meant and he said no. So we said it was the name of a national hero with Chinese roots, and that he was very famous, and didn't he know that guy He looked at us and he started nodding his head. He said he didn't know the guy but as a Filipino, he should. We admonished him for not knowing his heroes, and then moved on to other topics.We had forgotten about that incident. Recently we received an email from him. He had already migrated to New Zealand and the letter got us all laughing uncontrollably. He believed us all along and he never checked our story out. Imagine how irritated he was he saw the same sign in one of his travels. We laughed and laughed and asked him another question. Do you know who RR XING is<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Lenten Practices]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/lenten-practices/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/lenten-practices/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 26 Mar 2008 19:51:18 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/lenten-practices/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[The Lenten season is taken seriously in the Philippines, particularly by the older generation. My mom gives up coffee, my dad doesn't eat meat on Fridays, and us Well we just go with the flow.In the provinces, people would reenact the crucifixion of Jesus. They'd wear crowns made of thorns, long capes, be barefoot and walk along the highway while carrying crosses. Sometimes they'd whip themselves before the final walk as a sort of penitence. At the end of the walk, they'd get nailed to the crosses they bore.I never quite understood the motivation for these practices but I could admire the persistence and fervor with which the faithful did them. I for one am not big on sacrifices.But at least I understood the implications of the Lenten season, particularly the rituals of the final week, or the Holy Week as we call it here. I knew the story and the characters and the events that led to the crucifixion on Calvary, and the resurrection that came after.So imagine my consternation when I asked my nephew if he knew the meaning of Easter. He had only just finished his catechism about 3 weeks ago, so I was thinking it would still be fresh for him, and he would have answers for me. He didn't. So I found myself explaining Easter to him.And that was that. Or so I thought. I only fully realized how commercial Easter had become when the phone rang and I picked up to hear my niece on the line. She very cheerfully greeted me with a &quot;Good Morning!&quot; and get this - &quot;Happy EASTER EGG!&quot; Go figure.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Blind Beggar]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/blind-beggar/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/blind-beggar/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 26 Mar 2008 01:23:18 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/blind-beggar/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I have been living away from home for 15 years, since I went to college. I'd go home occasionally for weekends and holidays. Over the years I began to see changes in the city I grew up in. There were more buildings, more cars, more pollution, more people. It was not as cold as it used to be, and the small establishments I used to frequent as a child slowly faded into the woodwork as bigger merchants came into the city.One thing never changed though. Or one person. A blind beggar always sat at the sidewalk of the main thoroughfare. He always stayed on the same spot, come rain or come shine. He'd be there, barefoot, staring up at the sun with one hand held out and the other holding on to a walking stick.There aren't many beggars along this street. The police always manage to send them on their way. For some reason, however, this guy was never sent away. He's stayed at the same spot for as long as I can remember. I've often found myself wondering why he was never sent away, or why no other beggar's taken his spot.I've seen him all my life, and I've seen his hair and whiskers change from black to gray, his skin turn darker and grow more wrinkled, his hands and feet begin to look more calloused, and his eyes seem to shut tighter against the elements. Every time I came home, he would be there, and he would always be smiling. That always made my day, really. The fact that he was always smiling, even if it looked like he was lugging around all his worldly belongings and that he needed to beg for his next meal, made me smile too.Recently I decided to come home and settle down here. I don't usually go out so it was only yesterday that I saw him again, sitting at a different spot near his old spot. He looked older than I remembered, but he still looked the same, wearing that same smile I knew quite well. I wondered why he was displaced, though, and I found out why after walking a few meters. Another blind man was sitting on his spot!I felt a bit disoriented at the change of events but I ended up laughing after a while. I had blurted out the first thing that came to mind - &quot;boy, if those two SAW each other, there'd be trouble.&quot; Imagine that.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Pacman Reduces Crime]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/pacman-reduces-crime/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/pacman-reduces-crime/</comments>
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Mar 2008 17:08:46 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/pacman-reduces-crime/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I think by now everyone's heard of the Filipino boxer, Manny Pacquiao, also known as the Pacman. People know him for his boxing skills, and how rematch after rematch he still keeps coming back to beat another boxer up and get beaten up himself. He is something of a legend, I think, but since I am not a fan of any type of boxing, I don't think I can substantiate this fully. One thing I know, though, is that every time the Pacman has a match, not a single crime is committed in the Philippines. Okay, so maybe I exaggerate, but some news articles actually comment on this, about how crime-prone areas are transformed into practically crime-free zones. For a few hours at least. It's amazing, really. Take for example Tondo. On any given day, people steer clear of Tondo, a place that could probably be called the slums. While decent people live there too, the thugs that rule, or try to rule the place, make them few and far between. Rumor has it that pickpockets, ex-convicts, bums, and what-have-yous populate the place. Shirtless, tattoo-stamped, knife-carrying men sit on sidewalks with bottles of the local brew, surveying their domain. In the 15 years I've lived in Manila, where Tondo is located, I have only been there once. And only because I got lost there on the way to somewhere else. I almost peed in my pants when I realized where I was. But on Pacman day, footages of Tondo is actually flashed on the local news. No thugs with bottles on the sidewalks, no scared faces, no hurried movements to suggest fear. What you will see is a group of people, squeezed together to watch the fight on a screen mounted in the plaza. No fighting, no arguments. People who would normally throw a punch at the slightest touch or look start jumping and screaming together, all to cheer on a person now revered like a hero. &quot;PACMAN!&quot; is heard all over the place. Boos abound when he gets hit with a solid punch to the nose. And if victory ensues, grins of joy become mirrored on each and every face. I find it ironic, though. Here you have a violent sport, each fighter trying to get the best of the other, with blows that would most likely kill me with the first hit. And yet it unites people who are at best neighbors, and at worst, enemies who will not hesitate to join any violent fray to avenge a wrong, real or imagined. Violence that leads to unity. It is quite touching to see, says the sentimental side of me. Hostilities cease.I know that after the celebration, things always go back to normal. But during the fight we are a nation united in support of an idol. Well, like I said, for a few hours at least.<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Daily Commute]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/daily-commute/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/daily-commute/</comments>
<pubDate>Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:36:50 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>tbee80</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/daily-commute/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[For some, getting to work every day is just something taken for granted. Here in the Philippines, particularly in the outskirts of cities, getting to work is a daily challenge.One of my co-workers lives about an hour away from the office and has taken the term &quot;commute&quot; to a different level. We work with US customers, so our working hours begin late at night or early in the morning. Her shift begins shortly after midnight, and she is never without make-up. Let's just say that she needs a little over 2 hours every day to prepare for work.I once had to pick her up to go to work, and I had to appreciate the zeal and patience with which she prepares for work. The nearest beach is a 45 minute drive and we always joked about how all she needs is to spit and she'd hit the water. She lived that far from work. Despite this she gets up at 9 in the evening, grabs some food, showers, puts on her make-up, and is standing on the highway a little before 11 pm. Just to get to work.On a good night she can get a cab in 5, 10 minutes, tops, and will probably be in the office a good half hour or so before her shift. On a typical night, however, it takes almost an hour to get a ride so she sometimes hitches rides with whatever vehicle comes along.She lives near the highway so a lot of vehicles (other than cabs) take that route to and from the city. One night she got so desperate she flagged down a vegetable truck, which smelled of freshly dug up soil and then some. The driver was quite nice, and the seat didn't smell of dirt at all, which was a good thing. Another time it was a police mobile that was doing its patrol. That made her at least feel safe, compared to the time she rode with a bunch of drunks in a jeep. They were quite good natured and very helpful, but hey, they were still drunk. They took pity on her as she stood there on the road at 1 in the morning and she said she prayed all the way till they dropped her off at a place where she could get a cab. When I was new here I actually asked her if it was all worth it. It's dangerous, specially for a pretty girl like her. One of our co-workers had already gotten mugged when she worked for another company in the area. Can the pay make up for all the hassles she needs to go through just to get to work I asked her what percentage of her salary she spent on transportation, and she said a good half of her entire pay goes to transportation expenses. I had to go &quot;WHAT&quot; but she said she was doing it because she didn't need to pay rent as she lived with her in-laws. Bummer. I told her what she was doing was dangerous, and wouldn't it be easier to just get a closer apartment and pay for that The cost would have been roughly the same, perhaps even less. And everyone can rest easy because we wouldn't worry so much about her. It's just as well that we get paid a bit more than the usual pay in this industry. It's also good that the work is fairly simple, and by the time she gets home, she still has enough energy to play with her son a bit. Her husband's in the same line of work in a different company, so he understands the quirks of the job. We're fairly luck here in the city we're in. Most of the people still help each other out (well, except for the occasional mugger), even if they don't seem like good Samaritans at first blush. I just wish sometimes that our counterparts in the US could see what their employees here do to get to work. They tend to go ballistic if we come in even 10 minutes late. Maybe they'd appreciate people like this girl more. Me I'm fortunate enough to be able to drive my dad's car when he's not using it. For most of the people here, getting to work is like doing a leg in the Amazing Race.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

</channel>
</rss>
