I'm a coward. A fat coward. A fat lazy unmotivated coward. A fat lazy unmotivated coward who will ultimately end up unsuccessful and poor.

I can't get myself to look for a job. I can't get myself to study for the MCAT. I can't get myself to a gym. I can't get myself to eat less. I can't get myself to write a personal statement. I can't get myself to get letters of recommendation. I can't get myself to do anything.

I walked to the gym today, then walked past it when I saw a line of protesters walk by. There were women with signs and a megaphone. One was holding an umbrella that said "Peace, not war". There were men in orange prison uniforms, with black execution masks over their heads, chained to each other, also marching with them. They were chanting anti-war things. They got to Center and Shattuck, and the men were unchained, and they kept yelling and chanting and protesting. All of a sudden, loud sirens started sounding, and police cars started arriving in twos and threes from all directions. One man, a black man in an orange prison uniform, started getting violent. By this time, there were at least ten police cars and officers were wielding billy clubs, and more sirens could be heard in the distance. A crowd had gathered, and I was standing on the further corner, but then decided to get closer, going over to the corner right across from where this was all happening. At first, I had been worried that a greasy haired, tall Paki, with eyes heavily lined in black, smoking a cigarette and in head-to-toe black, was a prime candidate for the police officers to practice billy clubbing on. I felt safer in a crowd. People were taking pictures and videos on their cell phones. The man who was getting violent was holding a huge peace sign decorated with pink flowers. Exactly what hippy culture and Berkeley had been about, once upon a time. This is what I had come to Berkeley for. But the police descended on him. It took two or three to get him, because he fought and struggled. They eventually handcuffed him and threw him against the car, and with much difficulty, forced him into the back seat. In the process, the pink-flowered peace sign fell and was trampled by the police. A new chant began. "No war, no police". The police eventually left, because they could do nothing about verbal protest. A few cars stayed behind, just in case, and the crowd dispersed, but the protest went on. I finally got to experience a small piece of what Berkeley used to be.