Life with a Fast Brain

I’ve written before about the dark side of characteristics usually viewed as positive, pointing out that every deviation from balance has a cost.  The candle that burns twice as bright burns twice as quickly; of course that means it lasts half as long, but it also means that other candles burn at half speed relative to it.  My thoughts race constantly; I’m usually well ahead of everyone else in figuring things out, and my reflexes are abnormally fast.  But have you ever considered what the world looks like when viewed from within such a nervous system?  Take traffic, for example; many people say I drive too fast, but from my vantage point most other people are driving much too slowly.  Anything slower than freeway speeds seems like crawling to me, and being trapped in a clump of people going below the speed limit makes me feel like I’m having one of those nightmares where you are moving in slow motion, and I get so nervous I can’t endure it for long without trying to find some way out of it.  When I’m doing physical work with other people, they often seem to me to be taking much too long, and with far too many breaks in which they sit still in a way I can’t manage without being sedated.  And then there are automated telephone systems, which to me seem something like this:

Thank.  You.  For.  Calling.  The.  Blank.  Ety.  Blank.  Office.  Lo.  Cated.  At.  The.  Inter.  Section.  Of.  Main.  Street.  And.  First.  Ave.  Nue.  In.  Snail.  Ville.  Wa.  Shing.  Ton.”

{long pause}

If.  This.  Is.  An.  E.  Mer.  Gen.  Cy.  Please.  Hang.  Up.  And.  Call.  Nine.  One.  One.

This.  Line.  Does.  Not.  Handle.  E.  Mer.  Gen.  Cies.

{very long pause}

If.  This.  Is.  Some.  Other.  Thing.  Please.  Call.  Our.  Other.  Line.  At.  Eight.  Zero.  Zero.  Five.  Five.  Five.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.   Exten.  Sion.  Six.  Seven.  Nine.

{pause so long I start saying “Hello?  Hello?”}

For.  The.  Least.  Con.  Ceive.  Ab.  Ly.  Use.  Ful.  Sel.  Ec.  Tion.  Press.  One.

For.  The.  Least.  Con.  Ceive.  Ab.  Ly.  Use.  Ful.  Sel.  Ec.  Tion.  Save.  The.  Pre. Cee.  Ding.  Press.  Two.

For.  Some.  Depart.  Ment.  You.  Never.  Heard.  Of.  Press.  Three.

As you might expect, by this part I’m about to scream and/or jump out of my skin, and I start repeatedly pressing zero, hoping it isn’t one of those systems where the operator is actually reached by pressing five or eight or whatever.  If I know or suspect it’s a voice-actuated system instead, I’m liable to start repeating “Agent. Agent. Agent. Agent.” every time the system starts to say anything, in hopes of getting to talk to someone before my phone runs out of power or I die of boredom, starvation or old age, whichever comes first.

Anyhow, I think you probably get the picture.  And it may help you to comprehend why navigating bureaucratic systems is like some kind of exotic torture for me, and why it’s best for all involved if I work for myself.