Rohit's Realm

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March 11, 2003

Is There No Sacred Place Left?

Everywhere I go, I'm hounded by the self-righteous, incompetent political activists and in my eyes, their equivalent counterpart, the unfriendly, completely insane bums that traverse the streets of Berkeley, reeking havoc on all who dare to WALK in the city in which they pay taxes. I've grown accustomed to dealing with their shit on Sproul Plaza and now Dwinelle Plaza. I figure, it's my fault—I know this as a hotbed of morons and if I choose to walk through this area, in order to save time/energy, I take the implicit risk of being harassed by one of the freaks.

But today, something completely unacceptable happened. I got out of English today a bit early, and it was nice and warm, and I was sleepy from waking up for my 8 a.m. OChem lecture, so I decided to head over to Terrace Cafe and get some food, and just eat while sitting down, which surprisingly and sadly, I don't do very often. I got myself an overpriced chicken burrito, and was just sitting and eating, basking in the sun, and mentally ranting about how the jalapeņos they serve are just not hot, when someone behind me says, Excuse me.

I figure, I AM on the Bechtel Terrace, so most likely it's just some I know saying what's up. But instead, it turned out to be some moron, telling me to come see something AND donate MONEY for something I didn't even know or care about. What the hell!? I was sitting there, calmly eating my lunch, and some piece of shit has the audacity to approach me, interrupt me, and ask me to give him money, when I have no interest in anything he is saying?! And that wasn't even the worst of it. Five minutes later, a militant socialist (as contradictory as that sounds) comes toting The Socialist Worker and badgers me about No Blood For Oil.

Listen asshole, I don't stop and pick up your paper when you stick it in my nose while walking through Sather Gate. What makes you think that I will want to take it while eating. The main reason I avoid Sproul now is because of bastards like you. Burn in hell. You are entitled to your opinion and your freedom of speech and all that other stuff...but DON'T HARASS ME WHILE I'M EATING, YOU PIECE OF CRAP!!!!!!! By this time, I was fuming, because I just wanted to eat in peace, and rest for a while before the impending 5 hour chem lab. But these bastards just wouldn't leave me alone. So I got up to eat somewhere else, and all of a sudden, a BUM, but one of those young ones, that looks like he's in high school, was in front of me, begging for money for pot.

WHAT!? First, you can see my hands are full, and I'm not about to put my stuff down to take money out. Second, I would never, ever, ever give you even a single penny for pot or otherwise. It's not a funny line. It wasn't even funny after like the first time. If you want to be funny, then you must not be really in need of the money, right? And third of all, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING ON BECHTEL TERRACE?! Go back to Telegraph and chill with your other dirty ass pals, begging for money for weed. And I hope no one gives you even a cent! If you're really in need of money for food, ask someone to buy you a slice of pizza or something, not donate to your drug habit!

I suppose these 20 minutes today summarizes my entire day. I burned myself in chem lab when a boiling reaction mixture overflowed. My pinkie hurts pretty bad from it still, even now when I'm typing. Blister forming—ew!! I hate burns!! And then later, this bug I had in my script turned out to be something so asinine and obscure, it's unbelievable. But I don't want to started about CS. That's a rant in and of it's self. Well, at least I feel good now having actually written a genuine rant. I guess in the last month I've been getting kinda touchy-feely because of CalSO and all that fun stuff, but don't worry—my old self isn't completely gone. So in conclusion, I hate people bothering me when I eat, the militant bastards of Sproul Plaza, bums, chemistry, and programming. Oh, and did I mention bums? Yeah, I hate them a lot.


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