2/23/2012
Such a fast walker

I bumped into Krizia a couple of weeks ago. Well, that's not entirely accurate, since there was no physical contact involved. I did not bump into Krizia. I saw her. In fact, she saw me first. She was with a friend (I assume) at the CBTL branch I frequent, and I had my earphones on, walking to some place I can't remember anymore.

I'm surprised I heard her call my name. Niko! she probably went. I'm pretty sure she did it twice. I had my earphones on, after all. My hearing diminishes by half with those plugged in. Niko! I remember looking up and seeing her, smiling, waving at me. I removed my earphones, waved... and then I had a conundrum. What do I exactly do now? Do I go to her and exchange pleasantries and ask what's up and eat up her time? Or do I acknowledge her presence, wave back some more and then go?

I did the latter. Yes, I realize that makes me look rude. Here I am, face to face with an old friend from college, and I don't even ask her anything. I have a bit of an idea what she's up to (note to self: visit her food booth, you've never visited her food booth, you've always forgotten to visit her food booth, Kroketten beside Odd Balls in front of that home furnishing store thirty seconds from Ruby's mom's store) but apart from that, asking would feel a bit awkward. When I get asked back, what do I say? The usual. Stock answer. Because nothing really has changed. And besides, I had to meet someone, and I had to meet someone at that particular moment.

The conversation, like all other conversations that don't quite grow fully, shifted to Twitter. Krizia gave me a mention, said that she saw me at the mall. Actually, she didn't say that. She thought it was nice seeing me again. Aww. Heart warmed. "Such a fast walker..."

And there it goes.

Yes, you can say that I'm a fast walker. People have always pointed that out. "Bakit ba ang bilis mong maglakad?" is a common complaint thrown against me, and it feels like an accusation that I'm trying to get away from the people I'm with. I hate you! I bleeping hate you! But I can't scream that out loud, so I do the next best thing: slowly creep away. By walking fast. I know. Oxymoron.

I've always attributed that thing to my hyperactivity. I am, after all, diagnosed with ADHD. Prospective employers reading this blog entry: it's not an infectious disease, and it's not a disease. It's just that my brain works a little differently than others. I can focus so much on one thing and get bored by others. I can do things without thinking them through. Or I can - and this is the thing that's most true of me - act like I'm always plugged in. It's what the cool kids dismissively call "hyper". It's a good thing if there's a school project that needs to be crammed, but a bad thing in social settings. Bakit ba ang bilis mong maglakad?

Well, I figured, if I didn't walk fast, I would get hyperactive elsewhere, and you do not want that. But society dictates that I keep up with you (and not the other way around, always a complaint I have, one that never gets entertained) and it's not fun. I find walking slowly very tedious. I'm in one of those block mini-reunions, and we're making our way from the restaurant to some other place. People will talk like they don't need to catch up with each other, which makes me the odd one out. And they talk their time talking. Their normal pace is half that of mine. I have both hands in my pockets, literally making them weigh me down so I could control. Myself. But. I. Cannot. Take. It. Any. Longer.

Maybe I should complain. "Bakit ba ang bagal ninyong maglakad?" For once.

People think I walk too fast and I think they walk too slow. People think I talk too fast and... well, I cannot counter that. Safe to say it's all a matter of perspective. What bugs people about you will often be the opposite of what bugs you about them. I remember Clarence pointing out (in a Friendster testimonial, no less, which was the most public forum when we were still freshmen - remember that?) that I talked to myself often. And it's true. I talk to myself often. Mindlessly, sometimes, in fact. If I'm not narrating my life as it unfolds in front of me, I'm making loud mental notes for myself.

People will find that weird. Society dictates that people who talk to themselves are weird. I remember someone saying that much a few weeks back, and I found myself replying, but only to say that it is creepy, which is hypocritical because I do it myself, and by saying that I'm saying that I'm creepy. But maybe, all this time, I'm actually talking to someone. And that someone is you. And you refuse to listen.

And your responses...

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