Confessions of a Parking Stalker

There aren’t many things I don’t absolutely love about being a student at Utah Valley University, but parking is definitely one of them. And I don’t think I am the only one who feels that way. It has been a topic of heated discussion in many of my classes.

                         

In reality, does purchasing a parking pass mean I can always get a space for my car? Not unless I exhibit parking stalker behavior. And I must admit I have gotten pretty good at it.

There is true strategy in victoriously stalking people for their coveted spot, and it means you have to be aggressive. First, you must arrive at least 15 minutes before you actually need to start walking to class. Find a spot next to a sidewalk where students are leaving the building and going to their cars. Be sure your vehicle is facing the direction your prey will be walking, so you can follow them to the actual parking lot you want to end up in. Now wait for your stalkee.  

                         

                         

When a potential candidate walks by the side of your car, quickly roll down your window and politely ask if they are actually parked in the lot you desire. This is essential, because chances are they had to use the lot in the north forty and are just passing through. Once you have verified they are a qualified target, ask for permission to follow them directly to their spot. I use the following phrase, “Can I please parking stalk you?” and that has done the trick.

Put your vehicle in gear and slowly move forward, being sure to follow your victim closely without actually running over them. Be certain to put your blinker on to indicate you are going to use their spot, or another determined parker may try to steal it right out from under you. As you pull into the coveted parking space, smile kindly at the line of cars waiting, as if to say, “Oh, sorry! You have been waiting for a spot for thirteen minutes too?”

Now cautiously exit your vehicle. You may want to walk as closely as possible to the previously parked cars surrounding you. This should provide a buffer so you can avoid being hunted down by the other exasperated students, who are also late for class because they can’t find a parking place.

                    

Many times I have ended up parking way out there in the lot on the very east edge of campus. I can even make the claim that I have used the space furthest from campus. That’s fun. However, it is only after I have become desperate, and have unsuccessfully stalked for the maximum time possible.

But hey, on the bright side, who needs to go to the gym for exercise when you need to park at UVU, right?

My Favorite Little Guardian

When my grandson was just a little guy, he was completely enamored with swords. He would turn anything into a blade of steel that was longer than twelve inches. PVC pipe. Sticks. Rulers. Anything. And his favorite sheathe was his underwear. One day I was working on the computer and he came in with two dowels - one in each hand. He immediately put on his most intense face and took a fighting stance. I could tell where this was going so I bit and asked him what he was doing. "I am a 'gardener'".  "And just what does a gardener do?" "We protect people." Sure wish I could have gotten my little 'gardener' to pull  some weeds, but I was just happy to have him GUARDING me. And to get a good chuckle in at the same time.

                         

Getting Old Does Have its Benefits

I am classified as a “non-traditional” student. Just what does that mean anyway? It makes me sound like a rebel of some kind. That is so not me.

I have discovered that a non-traditional student is one who attends college part time, works more than 35 hours a week, has dependents, is a single parent, does not have a high school diploma, or is financially independent.

None of those qualifications fit me. I go to school full time. School is my job. My kids are grown. I am happily married, and I did graduate from high school. I am definitely not financially independent, but I would really like to try that one sometime.

I am a non-traditional student because I am considered old.

                         

I prefer the word “mature”. And that is a fabulous thing because of all the perks that go with it.

Most people on campus are surprised to discover that I am not a teacher at UVU. And teachers get more respect. I do love it when younger students hold the door open for me. Perk.

A couple of months ago my husband and I were out to dinner. When we went to pay the tab, it was much lower than anticipated so I asked the cashier about it. She replied that she had given us our senior citizen discount. I wish I had a picture of her face when I told her that we weren’t senior citizens yet. She offered to put the discount back on our tab, but we politely declined. Another perk.

Usually I am older than the professors I have. Thus, I sometimes allow myself to be a little sassier than I would be comfortable with if they had a few years on me. And I like sassy. Perk again.

I don’t feel old until I look at my body and my kids. How is it possible for me to have thirty-something year old children?

                         

And who is that old woman in the mirror every morning? It is kind of a shock.

A young lady in one of my classes was complaining how old she felt because she just turned thirty. Then she noticed that I had overheard her and she blushed. I just smiled back at her. Awkward. It is all about your point of view, right?

Recently I rode an elevator with a couple that explained they were on campus to attend a lecture. Both of them were 94 years old. They were young at heart and full of life. I told them I want to be like them when I grow up.

Being a “mature” student gives me a unique perspective. I appreciate youth and age. I understand the joys and challenges of both. And I find that both can be as fun as you make them.

                         

But don’t think of me as old. Just think of me as becoming a classic. 

Do I Dare Wear Bling on my Butt?

Can I just say that whoever invented stretchy denim is brilliant!! They deserve every penny they made on the deal. And then some.

Fluffy women everywhere have finally found redemption.

I normally hate to go clothes shopping because I always come home depressed. Why can’t anyone make cute clothes for women who are “un-skinny”? It seems like clothing for bigger women just accentuates the negative, and finding jeans that fit right and were even the tiniest bit flattering was impossible in the past.

Enter skinny jeans. I have never in my life bought clothes that say “skinny” anywhere on them, so I didn’t mind one bit that these said “skinny large size jeans”. Works for me. I love how they stretch where they need to stretch so I don’t have to lay down on my bed and turn purple from holding my breath, just to put them on. I am just not sure how I feel about having bling on my backside though.

                    

Normally putting on jeans is quite a process. 

Lay flat on your back. Suck in your stomach region as much as possible, and hold that pose until you can wrangle the brass button through the button hole. This may take a minute, so be sure to get a big breath before you begin, being careful to hold the air in your chest area only. Once the button is secured you can begin to breathe again.

Now the work really begins. Try to find the zipper thingy at the bottom of the bulge below the brass button. Pry the zipper up no more than one inch. Rest and breathe. Repeat this process until the zipper is completely closed. Be sure to push the zipper thingy back down laying flat so it is now pointing at your feet.This will lock the zipper. Otherwise when you move, it will unzip itself and you must begin again.

                              

The last step must be executed with great caution. Roll over on your now squished stomach. The goal at this point is to work your way to the edge of the bed so you can lift the head end of your now stiff-boarded self upward, while lowering the feet end to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, fling yourself upward until you end up in a vertical standing position. Continue the last step until the desired outcome is achieved.

Hopefully you remembered to put shoes and socks on beforehand because there is no way in heck that you will be able to touch your toes for at least eight hours. After that point, the jeans will begin to relax and by the end of the day you should be able to sit at least semi-comfortably. The good news is that next time you put these pants on it will be much easier. That is until you wash them again, at which point you must repeat the entire process explained above.

I love the entire stretchy denim concept.

Now I am able to put my new jeans on while continuing to breathe normally. And I can even stand upright at the same time. Novel concept, right? I never thought I would be a person who would wear bling on my butt, but if that is what it takes to wear skinny jeans, I’d say it is worth the sacrifice.

                               

My Grandkids are Being Held Hostage!

My three grandchildren and their parents are being held hostage against their will. They have very little food and no toys or books. The sleeping arrangements are less than desirable. I am very concerned for their welfare, but I cannot do one thing to help because they are hundreds of miles away.

All of them are stuck in a little hotel room with nowhere to go for the entire week. And to top it all off, their van gave up the ghost right after they got there. Hopefully it won’t be long until they are finally able to escape, and move into the home they are buying near their new Army post.

My son is in the Army full time and just got transferred. Since they have another child coming in July and they homeschool their children, they needed four bedrooms instead of the three available in on post housing. Buying was no more expensive than renting, so it was a good option. Now it is just a matter of waiting for that to happen.

And just who is holding them hostage? The inspector for the VA loan.  Apparently he is being so picky that they cannot close and move in. He told the sellers they had to replace some window screens because they had little holes in them. The sellers didn’t even know there were holes or which ones he wanted changed. And have you ever tried to get ahold of an inspector? Impossible.

So goes the military. Hurry up and wait.

          

                     

My daughter-in-law once likened having their kids talk to us over Skype to trying to control a circus in a broom closet. And that was only for a few minutes. I can’t imagine trying to contain three rambunctious children in a single room for an entire week.

Unfortunately, this was an unforeseen situation so all the  means of entertaining my grandkids were already packed and loaded before they found out. Nothing to play with. Nothing to read. No electronics. Even swimming suits were buried in the bottom of who knows what box.

So while Daddy is at work, Mommy and the kids get to pick their noses and stare at the walls. Thank goodness there is an indoor playplace at a fast food joint nearby.

How long can you stay at those places without buying anything before they kick you out?

            

                    

This too shall pass, and one day it will be one of those funny stories they laugh about. But for now they just have to tough it out. Hopefully everyone comes out the other end alive. By the way, don’t all screens have little holes in them?!

Trying Times with Teachers

I have never had a teacher that I didn't like – as a person. As a professor? Let’s just say I prefer the style of some more than others, if you know what I mean.

One of the hardest things about coming back to college has been trying to figure out exactly what each professor expects. I have decided it takes at least three weeks to get the hang of each one’s quirks. But by then it just might be too late.

I find it ironic that my teachers who claim to personally detest the very idea of grades are the ones that give the hardest tests. Be prepared to find the most minute detail buried amongst the 357 pages of assigned reading that week, because that is the very question they are sure to ask. Usually those are the same ones that are impossible to take notes from, since just when I think they are rambling or have gotten off topic, there it is again. The dreaded test question.

The professors I like best are the ones that spell out exactly what will be on their exams.

                 I like getting good grades. Call me crazy.
       
                                 
Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, or at least give it the old college try.

Each semester I have a couple of instructors that I absolutely love. They are dedicated to their students and passionate about the subject. No question is unimportant and no comment insignificant. They make me work hard and stretch, and are fair in their grading. 

I also seem to get at least one teacher every semester who I struggle with. It seems like they are there with the sole purpose of making their students confused. Their lectures are so fast that I have to either listen OR take notes because if I try to do both I miss the whole thing. So I go home and learn what they just tried to teach me on YouTube. That way I can rewind as often needed. 

Then there are the professors that are just frustrating. These are the teachers that seem to thrive on grading papers based on form rather than content. Their tests include things that were never covered in class. And if they were in the textbook, I never saw them. 

My husband insinuated it might be my problem when I was whining to him last week. He wondered how it is that I always seem to get some of the most troublesome instructors. I assured him it was because “Rate My Professor” lies. It couldn’t be me, could it? 

Looking back I can see ways I could have applied myself better. And let’s face it – teachers are people too. They are just doing the best they know how. So for now, I will try to remember that. And do my best not to pull all my hair out.

  But when you see an old bald lady on campus, you will know exactly what happened.

Low Tech Granny in a High Tech World - UVU Review Style

This is a copy of the first thing I ever had published. March 3, 2014. It was in the UVU Review, the college's newspaper. Kinda fun to see my name in print, with the title of "Staff Writer" underneath! Who knew that they were going to put it on the top HALF of the FIRST PAGE of the Life Section? It is a lot like another post, so thanks for indulging me.

Low Tech Granny in a High Tech World

The struggles a non-traditional student has with technology

By Marinann Castillo

Staff Writer

Returning to college full time a year ago to finish my Bachelor’s Degree after 34 years has been a technological adventure. I admit it. I am pretty much an idiot when it comes to electronics.

I don't have a smart phone. Mine is a dumb phone that I don't even know how to take pictures on. I just barely learned how to text a couple of months ago. That was only because I learned that other students don’t even answer their cell phone if they don't know who is calling. And the only way they would know I was calling was if they had me in their "contacts". Like that’s gonna happen!

My kids complain because I don’t answer my cell phone a lot of the time. I don’t carry it in my pocket because I already have more padding than needed in that area and I don’t want any more. And how am I supposed to remember to turn the ringer back on after class? Or for that matter, to turn it off once I am in class. I think I need to invent a way to hang it around my neck somehow. Can you say “bling-y lanyards” anyone?                              

I tried to take a computer class to learn to make friends with the thing, but the new lab program still had a lot of bugs in it. I was told not to quit because I could put on my resume that I was a beta tester for it, but I don’t want to be a beta tester. I just want to make friends with computers. Yea, I dropped that class in a hurry.

My laptop is only a couple of years old, but apparently it is already a dinosaur. I know how to type and can do a few things I learned at jobs I have had in the past. But learning new things on the computer just doesn't stick unless I do it over and over and over again. So annoying!

In one of my classes we had to do a huge group project, and as usual I was the oldest member of the group. The other students thought it would be easiest to do it all in Google docs. Google what!?! I am barely used to using "Google" as a verb, and now it has docs!! They told me it would be so easy to learn and that I would not have any problems with it. Ri-i-i-ight...just baby me along and I'll be fine. Oh, and please give me all of the writing assignments because I am great at that.

My theory is that kids today are "native speakers" of all things electronic. I, on the other hand, am a traveler in a foreign land. Hopefully the longer I visit, the more fluent I will become. It may take a while though, and by then Google will have had other babies that I am supposed to know how to use. But I will keep plugging along a little at a time, and maybe I’ll even remember how to do a few things along the way.