I decided to take the administrator's test so that I can get a job someday that probably has way more stress than the job I currently have. I must be a sucker for punishment. Here I am, thinking I am climbing the ladder of success, when in reality I am probably just digging my early grave. Anyway, I know I can't stay in my current job for the rest of my life. I really don't want another teaching job, and after I spent all this time and money going back to school for my teaching credential, I figure this is the next viable option. That is, of course, if I pass the test. Let me tell you a little bit about this test. I think it was a test of survival more than a test of skill. Six freakin hours of nonstop writing. And I mean nonstop. One might think that you can finish each section before the allotted time, but you can't. There were probably 100 people in that room, and no one to my knowledge finished before the "ding". I won't bore you with any details about the test, however I did have to drive down to Santa Cruz the night before and stay in a hotel because it started at 7:30 am and the test center in San Francisco was full.
My role model.
The night before the test, I drove down to Santa Cruz to stay in a hotel. Curtis decided to come with me and "support" me. How? I have to clue. On our way down, I was hungry. I chose an exit that had few options for food, although there was one place that looked tempting enough and seemed very classy. Curtis was dressed in sweatpants. Turns out that he fit right in. We ate at a place called Claim Jumper, which Curtis thought was called Clam Jumper until he read the menu and realized there weren't clams anywhere on the menu. What strikes me as odd is that he really thought I would even consider a place called Clam Jumper. Clams. I'll say it again...I don't know how he runs a non-profit organization. Back to the story... The food was pretty gross. Curtis order tilapia (weird, I know, but maybe he was really hoping for clams after all the hype). I ordered what I thought couldn't possibly be nasty. I ordered sliders. I was wrong. They were pretty nasty. In the end, we decided that in Fremont, CA, Claim Jumper's is considered a pretty fancy place to eat. I mean, come on. After all, they had a case showing off their finest wine selection. A true sign of class. We then continued on with our little trek to Santa Cruz. At the hotel (the swanky Ramada Inn Limited (not sure why it was limited, although we did notice that our smoke detector was torn off the ceiling)), I checked in and had to defend Oakland from the guy behind the counter. I'll call him Apu because I don't remember his name. Anyway, Apu noticed that I was from Oakland and seemed impressed that I was alive to tell about it. He told me that it was dangerous there because of all the black people with guns who hold people up at gas stations. Realizing what I was dealing with, I said I don't go to that gas station, took my key and left. The room was OK. Just as long as there wasn't a fire.
Clam Jumper.
The next morning, I had to arrive at the test-taking place by 7:30, which was why we went down the night before and got a hotel. I woke up early and went for coffee. The coffee shop that my phone said was right down the street was no longer there, or I couldn't find it, and so I settled for 7-Eleven. I was pleasantly surprised with their coffee, even though they only had non-dairy creamer and barely any sugar. And I wasn't about to ask the "charming" 17 year old who was behind the counter for any more sugar. I think he had autism because he didn't speak, nor did he make eye contact. And I think he was on drugs. Anyway, on to test!
I would much rather be here than taking a 6 hour, all essay test.
The test-taking place in question was at the University of California, Santa Cruz. I didn't realize it until the first pee break, but the campus was absolutely beautiful. It is located in a redwood forest, and many of the buildings are hidden by the foliage and hard to find, including the one that I needed to go to for my test. I thought I would be late and they wouldn't let me in and I would be out $500 dollars and that would suck and I would be doomed to a life of being a special ed. teacher and I then I would retire at some point and I then I would eventually die. But I made it in time. And oh, what a test it was. I have never used a whole pen's ink in one sitting. There was so much writing in this 6 hour, all essay test that I milked that pen dry by the lunch break. (Don't tell anyone, but it was a pen I stole from work.) I feel good about the test, probably because I survived this agonizing 6 hour, all essay ordeal. I have the battle wounds to prove it. My neck is just killing me today.
Bring it on! At least for one night, and for my birthday. Delicious.
Last night was also my birthday dinner party. Tanya was uber late. I expected late, but uber late? That's a bit much. I don't hold grudges though, so I can care less. Carley and Dan came in to the restaurant carrying my gift. It looked like a sword, but upon closer inspection, it was an umbrella. Tanya gave me a book titled Awkward Family Photos, which I perused through on my train ride home. I love it. Although the title of this blog is Life Without Wine, last night was a life with wine. I was really buzzed after two glasses. Dinner was delicious. I ate part of an anchovy, which Carley said tasted like an aquarium. I have to agree with her on that one. But I tried it, which is part of my News Year Resolution of trying new things and pushing myself to where I normally wouldn't go. Like camping. I swear Sofia mentions camping just to see my reaction. I was going to go home after dinner, but everyone convinced me to go to a bar for another drink.
We passed by a scene on 16th St. that was kinda like this, but not at all.
At the bar, I kept drinking red wine, only not in a wine glass. That was something I used to do back when I was in college and out in bars. I used to think wine glasses weren't cool, but I loved me some wine. I eventually got over that, but last night I was rockin the wine old school style. Minette made fun of me for ordering wine at a bar. And now, back to the sword umbrella. It really does look like a sword until you take it out of the case. I wore it on my back and it looked like I was carrying a sword. I thought for sure I would get stopped. We passed by some 19 year old sluts who were getting arrested on 16th Street and the cops didn't stop me. Even the doorman at the bar who carded me didn't stop me. I even got on the BART train with the sword umbrella and nobody stopped me. Not even to inquire. I got a lot of stares and comments (and I mean a lot) from other people in the bar and on the street, but no one who had any responsibility for the safety of others. So let it be known: Swords are allowed on 16th Street, in Elixir Bar, and on BART.
Mine looks like the one on the left.
