Adventures in Hypertown: A Hyper Person in a Non Hyper World: An Expose Of How Life Works in Normal People Land

I Politely Introduce Me to You

My fake name is Dolly Doppelganger, and most of the time I am delighted to be hyper.
I was blissfully happy writing for antiMusic.com, going through aliases faster than drug dealers dispose of cell phones until I decided that remembering where I parked my car was more important than being able to laugh. As is typically the case, this impulsive overreaction sent me scrambling to remodel my life and I raced to the doctor’s office to get diagnosed with previously undiagnosed “ADHD” as the pros in the biz like to call it. 'Off the charts hyperactivity' is how I affectionately think of it.

And thus started my wonderful journey through the jungle of anti hyper prescription drugs for the condition I assumed was destroying my life. The doctor’s initial ‘is she a drug seeker or THIS annoying for real?’ iceberg of disbelief quickly melted under my excellence at being myself. Vindicated, I entered a blissful but cautious trial period, where I was officially declared insane and medicated. All at once, I transformed into an undercover normal person, gaining access to the mysterious world that many inhabit without prescribed stimulants!

I had to figure out to survive in the tricky world of normal people, with no guidebook! I found that for me, popping in on the normal people and their tidy, organized lives for a day's visit isn’t all bad, but no way I wanna live there full time!!

When I was an undercover normal person, I floated through their universe undetected, fitting in as perfectly as if I’d been born there and belonged. Although I began as an awed, grateful to the point of weeping tourist, I concluded my vacation as a double agent.

All I wanted was a way to make my traitorous brain function in a way that allowed me entry into the world of normal people, but I found that life on anti hyper drugs was a grim, deadly serious business and laughter was superfluous.

I did everything punctually, completing every task I started; I forgot nothing, I was no longer paralyzed by overwhelmingly disorganized chaos. I achieved a 100% success rate at getting into my car every time I parked it, not because I “found” it, but because I actually remembered putting it there. My kids never wore dirty, ripped, or stained clothing in public; the fridge burst with lovingly hand crafted carrot and celery sticks. My kitchen sinks were beautiful, gleaming holes in the counter that a surgeon could have stored a spare heart or brain in, if ever such a medical emergency arose.

Doesn’t that sound nice, with frisking deer playing tag with adorable fairies under the rainbow while unicorns gleam brightly in the meadow as the sun shines and the birds twitter in the low tech way? Silly! Didn’t you read that sentence with the word “superfluous” in it? (All the normal people reading this just nodded their head “yes”. Of course you did! You read things one word at a time! Hyper people read huge, whopping hunks of words at a time, that’s why we can’t spell. That doesn’t make us stupid any more than your way makes you smart! That question was for them!)

Everything in normal people land is sharply defined, flashing brightly in perfectly contrasting colors, the only music playing is sad, somber violin music; but not all the time; only on special occasions cuz music and creativity TOTALLY don’t fit in here. The days are all overcast when you live in normal people land; it’s never bright and sunny, but always too dreary to ever go to the beach. The mystery of how the heck can normal people live like this coats everything with an imperceptible layer of fine, dusty silt that can never be permanently wiped away, even by us crazy people. Normal people spend all their time weeping and trying to commit suicide.
No! I’m just kidding! They should be! But they are completely unaware of how dire their circumstances are! They have NO idea how wonderful and desirable Hypertown is. That’s probably a good thing, or who would we get to organize our stuff and call us and remind us to come to the doctor’s office tomorrow?

I decided (eventually) that I don’t want to live in normal land all the time; it sucks there with a measurable velocity, sucking counterclockwise in Australia. So now I just pop in and visit the place on days I don’t want to spend 25 minutes wandering around a parking lot trying to find my car when I’m ready to go back home. I no longer enjoy dual citizenship, I’m content to remain a tourist.

Now that I’m safely back in Hypertown on a regular basis, details are back to being invisible, the way I like ‘em. Now when I take my kids shopping with me, they hunt for my car for me cuz I’m too busy glaring back at the normal people scowling their disapproval at me, disdainful at the grubby t-shirt my kid has on.

Dinner is always late, if I bother, and it’s always bizarre enough to not be very edible anyway; I reliably forget major critical doctor’s appointments, and spill something at least twice a month. We are all becoming accustomed to stepping over the hole in the middle of the floor from the missing tile I’ll never bother replacing; the drains in my kitchen sinks are a festering baby fly nurseries, and I’m once again able to seek fortune, not fame from writing cuz I don’t want to have to wear sunglasses when I shop at Goodwill. And through it all, I laugh at the stuff normal people don’t have a twisted enough brain to appreciate.