When you are late, do not hurry. You're already late.

This was the advice that one of my good college friends loved to give. To his credit, he did always have this Zen-like aura about him, as if nothing in the world could ever faze him. I envied his ability to glide through the days, his unaffected demeanor. He was cool like no one else was cool.

I on the other hand, I was always rushing from point a to point b, what others would consider a sprint, I assumed was a leisurely stroll. This brisk manner is, I believe a result of two things. First, as my father's shadow, I had to keep up with his much longer strides. I learned to take quick steps.

Second, my father was very fond of schedules. He still is. For him, there is no such thing as Filipino time. If you come early, you're on time, and if you're on time, you're already late. If you're late, well, don't bother showing up at all.

So it was that I realized many of my college friends found me to be a wet blanket, always bugging them to head for their classes instead of hang around at the brick wall that had seen much better (pre-war) days, puffing on their cigarettes and creating a cloud of smoke to rival the jeepneys that clunked by.

While it can be argued that arriving early, or on time, isn't as simple as it sounds, I'm generally able to keep my tardiness to a minimum. There are several defenses for being late, however, and one very good demonstration of this is the records section at my high school. One of the questionable policies our school had was that tardy students must fill out late slips (name, date, time, reason, and signatures) before entering the classroom, thus causing them to be later than they were in the first place.

A particularly memorable student once wrote that she was late because she had blindfolded herself at the eating area and couldn't find her way back to the classrooms.

Other reasons included traffic going upstairs and crossing the street. Not as amusing, but still, admirable in the way that only reckless youth can be.

Had I enough guts to tell the truth, my late slips would reveal that I spent way too much time worrying about germs - the time it took to disinfect doorknobs and handles and of course, my own hands made me move considerably slower than the maximum time for me to make it by the first bell.

There is something about Lewis Carroll's frantic White Rabbit that I identified with. Also the Energizer Bunny that kept going, and going, and going, and going. I always feel like I must rush or else. Or else what? Who knows. But I can't help thinking if I pause for more than maybe a minute,

I'll miss something.

There's an entire lifestyle called the Slow Movement that encourages, well, slowness in everything. I know the idea isn't bad, but I'm afraid my city mouse sensibilities would be offended by that sort of pace.

My mother often tells me that Filipino time is a result of the Pinoy tendency to prioritize immediate situations over the bigger picture, such that if they are on the way to a meeting and they run into a friend they haven't seen in a long time, well, the meeting can wait. I'm not very convinced, but hey, 'values personal relationships' sounds so much better than 'unprofessional,' right?

I used to beat myself up for not getting my college degree on time. Apart from feeling left behind, there was that awkward classification as an 'irregular' student. It made me feel like my skin was blue or maybe purple every time I'd have to register. In the end, it became a good thing because I'd have around 9 units every term and a whole lot of time to do a whole lot of nothing, including joining an organization, volunteering for another one, and doing freelance projects here and there. In a way, being delayed taught me how to enjoy things more, absorb the details and linger in the moments.

I'm not, by any means, advocating that students prolong their stay in college. When you start taking classes being taught by your batch mates - it's not really funny anymore. I'm just saying that sometimes, too much speed takes some quality away. Like that turtle who won the race by just plodding along, slowly and surely, in the end maybe focus is more important than being fast.

Then again, I could just be making excuses for this very, very late entry.