Maybe my real problem is not being slow. Maybe it is the inability to express myself in the way I intended. And through time and conditioning, I begin to think (too long, I reckon) before I say or act. And, that is, inadvertently perceived as being slow or ditzy. 

I can't help but wonder if this trait (I shall not see it as a handicap or anything negative, for that matter. Shall call it my little problem.) has been a part of me since I was young. I should think so, but it is only now that my mind explored the possibility that I had always had difficulty in expressing myself. 

In retrospect, I would say that I was a quiet and anti-social child. Quite often eccentric and happily lonesome. I daydreamt loads.. and thought up of many many stories and scenarios, which I would then reenact. Taking on the multiple roles and filing myself with all the different thoughts that must be running through the characters' mind at that particular point in time. That was how I spent my time playing. Sometimes stories with Barbie dolls, other times, any other items I can get my hands on. 

As I said, I was anti-social.. But fine with that too. I had a lot going in between my ears, but I never thought that they needed an outlet. Neither did I think it was important to do so. I simply contained everything within me, and let myself loose in the little wondrous world, that is 'DebbieLand'.

I remember, Daddy would always chide me for daydreaming.. and urging me to strive for a sense of urgency. I imagine his frustration then to be the exact emotions eluded by friends now. It must have taken, or still has to be, plenty patience to communicate with me. A good example would be that verbal messages have to repeated at least twice. Because I would not have heard it, or would not have understood the first time round. If not, my reply wouldn't have been effectively transmitted, my true perspective compromised, due to my little problem. 

In primary one, a teacher once remarked in the report book, "Deborah is a hardworking and helpful girl. However, she is slow in understanding. Her results can be improved."

That teacher remains as one of my much beloved mentors. Mrs Cheong. But her words had a lasting impact on me. Obviously. I guess, I subconsciously know that I am slower than others.. But never really thought much about it. 

Then in secondary school, Mrs Lee would remark that I could write, but my narratives would always be rife with expression errors. The same could be assumed for my JC years. 

What prompted me to think about the matter was yesterday's anthropology tute. After I had asked a question, one to seek meaning to an economic term, there was this utterly awkward silence. Nobody understood what I had just asked. 

Fortunately, one of my tute-mates, who could transcend into my spectrum of frequency, understood me and reconstructed my question on my behalf. But that was after the silence has sank into the depths of the pores of the concrete flooring, and everyone had reached to point whereby they're thinking in their head, "What is this chick talking about?!"

I'm not really bothered about how others think of me. Well, I am for my friends. Not so much bothered, but apologetic, about how many obstacles they have to overcome to talk to me. I'm bothered, more so, with the fact that I have improved little and could possibly be getting worse! Maybe now that I realise my slowness is because of my inability to put myself across clearly, I could start working on it and be more socially relatable and relevant now. 

That is not to say that I'm going to change myself to conform to the demands of society and group behaviour. I'm simply better-ing myself in the course of my life. I'd change my slow-ness up a little, but it'd always be there. It's the ditzy part of me after all.