My head speaks Greek and Latin to Me!!

 Disclaimer: If this post makes no sense to you, blame it on the depression. I seem to have picked it up somewhere on the way back home from turning in my term papers....

There seems to be no method to this strange madness...

I mean it began when I walked in, into my School office, intent on turning in my papers. Every paper requires a coversheet, that normally has all the necessary details of the programme I'm doing. I screwed the cover sheets royally. The lady at the counter spotted 4 mistakes! Feeling dumber than the fifth grader, I went back picked up a fresh set of coversheet - 2 each for three paper and began all over. Went back to the counter and the lady glared at me, "oh no, not you again", if she didn't have to polite, I'm sure that's what she would have said. But guess looking at my goofy expression, she paid closer attention to my coversheet and found two mistakes again...I mean it's not Astrophysics or calculations. It's just about putting down your name and course and the paper being submitted. But I just couldn't get it RIGHT...So there I was back again, writing the same thing in different slots for the THIRD time...Feeling doubly stupid and really out of my normal 'CLEVER ME' element...

With my head held down like a scolded child, I inched my way back to the lady, only to realise there were atleast 4 people now ahead of me, who managed to get their coversheets right...The lady was so appreciative of them, I felt downright jealous...She smiled sympathetically at me, I guess, taking me to be a Special Child with comprehension disabilities and then she began miming with her overly made up eyes...From asking me for my student id, to referring to each paper by its complete course name...Embarrassment Embarassment Embarrassment...Was I feeling it more than was there? Maybe but right now you are on my side, listening to the story from my point of view...So you agree with me, MORTAL EMBARRASSMENT...

Papers turned in, I said hi to a couple of my classmates in the queue, and beat a hasty retreat...It wasn't a particularly clever day, and I for sure, didn't want to hear from anyone how they breezed through their term papers, while I sweated it out in the sub ten degrees in Brighton...

And as I began my fifteen minute walk back to my house, with a shoulder tote that was considerably lighter of roughly hundred pages of drivel I managed to unearth from roughly 20 books that are now resting in various formations on the floor of my room, my mind started word games with me...I hear strange voices in my head, talking to each other..no one is talking to me..and I know it's Greek and Latin. ( Mental Note to self: This new term, study Greek and Latin...not Spanish..Spanish is for mere mortals, Greek and Latin helps you talk to the little ghosts in your head!)

The daffodils and the tulips across the campus seem happy, that makes me more depressed...By the time I unlocked the door to my house, I could have bawled...Instead I begin a vigorous clean up...As if exorcising the Ghosts of the Term Papers from my house...Began with the kitchen...Pots and pans kept for drying got a vigorous scrub...if they could think, they would have asked " Pray tell, what's our fault"...Took the bulky vacuum cleaner to my room two floors up, reached there out of breath and hoovered the life out of my carpet...The books toppled...And i hoovered them too...

Is it something like post partum depression? I mean, if I were to think of the term papers as my babies, conceived out of considerably less passion than is romantically believed, through a very uneasy pregnancy of a month that seemed about a year long, and then delivered - a yuckkk my babies were sooo ugly and badly formed...Just not like how I had imagined them to be....Maybe that's why...Maybe it's that I could have such an uncharitable thought...Maybe it's coz I sent them into the big bad world of grumpy lecturers and uncaring markers who wouldn't understand the pains I took to carry the baby full term...

Hmmm...so there...I go down and there is my flatmate, looking visibly relieved, fixing his lunch in the kitchen...I spoke to him about my Depression and he controlled his twitches of absolute mockery at my perceived plight remarkably...I did hear the sniggers when he was heating up his sorry food in the microwave....MORE DEPRESSED BY NOW....

Head straight to my room. Switch on the IPL and I read about the matchfixing allegations...INDIFFERENT DEPRESSED NOW...

End of story....I'm still in indifferent depressed state....My little ghosts in my head is still speaking Greek and Latin...If they are trying to console me, well, then their message is LOST IN TRANSLATION...literally!!!!

P.S Please don't ask why some stuff is in CAPS...No answers from the little ghosts...