Two weeks ago I was giving a particularly brilliant critique to a theory on the political science class and a huge helicopter hovered over the campus just as I finished talking (not allowing the teacher to comment properly on my remarks). The guy on front of me said jokingly "I think we are being tapped, they are after us!". I walked over the campus and two old guys who are aquaintances of mine sat on the grass. I greeted "hi, what's up", and they said they were just looking at the "Valkyries" — I looked around and saw a gorgeous redhead just over there and agreed, to their amusement (they seemed to laugh a little too much). Later I thought maybe they — because of Apocalypse Now — meant the helicopters, the one I saw could easily fit 50 persons.

This was the day after MLST invaded the congress, and two weeks after the PCC attacks. There was some out-of-ordinary heated debate on the Ponto Campus tables about current affairs.

I became very worried about the political situation in Brazil over the next 5 days after the helicopter. To the point were people almost seemed to advise me tacitally to seek a psychiatrist. Many paranoid thoughts came to me — fear of civil war, dictatorship, censorship (even on the internet¹), ideas of reference, and general anxiety (even with palpitations in two occasions) mostly, but not truly delusional, since I seem to have always maintained a healthy skepticism about the paranoid manifestations during the whole episode.

The peak of the episode — and also the funniest part — happened the day after the chopper, when I was on a bus to Pelotas. There was green vehicles all around, and I had the firm delusion they were military (maybe transporting stuff for the coup or something) — and travelling got really slow because of them (it arrived an hour late, never happened before). I couldn't sleep because due to anxiety, and a brat, 5 or 6 years old, started making noise with a plastic bag. I got really annoyed and complained to him, respectfully but firm. His father — who looked like he belonged to MST — was too soft and didn't take the bag out of the children. He kept making noise for ten minutes (he and his father laughed for some time), after which I lost it. In pure anger I placed my mala in plain view of the children, handled it as a mean Cardinal Richelieu of sorts, and started to chant a wrathful mantra loudly and fast, for the whole bus to listen. Somebody started to laugh at me but stopped midlaugh, I believe fearing he was in the presence of a truly insane person. I did it for maybe a minute, minute and a half tops.

After that, silence, blessed silence. Then the bus stopped and picked up a military police officer and a bus company officer, who sat one two seats ahead of me, the other two seats behind. When the child came back from a side road snack, an old woman put her hand on the childs forehead, as if to asure him he was not doomed for life.

But now I'm ok, no anxiety and sleeping good. Not a hinge of paranoia and no need for anger management. Classes are almost over and I'll be able to work on my own stuff again soon (I mean tzal.org).