On this hectic campus, it is all too easy to forget about the employees working almost every day to provide services for Georgetown students. LuAnne Buzzanca is a full-time cashier and customer service employee for the Georgetown University Bookstore. This past week, she and her coworkers celebrated her 30th year on the job. Along with her officially recognized outstanding customer service, Buzzanca brings a love for poetry and life to the University.

How long have you been writing poetry?

I have been writing poetry since I was 14. In elementary school, we used to have to write in our journals all the time. I loved English. In high school I got a B in English and a B in Spanish. Everything else I got a C. I’m just an average person — just basically average. It’s O.K., though — surprises come out when you least expect it. I didn’t think anything more serious of it until I got older. I like writing, I hate reading. It’s just fun [and] I formed my own style. Then it just became easy. It releases whatever tension you have. I’ve written about a hundred poems.

Do you have any plans for your writing in the future?

I’m trying to make a 100-page book. I have about 50 more pages to get, but that’s not going to be hard. It’s going to take a while. I want to break it down into attitudes; I’ve got many different ones. [Poetry] is a hobby, but I also want to see where it goes. As time goes on, whatever money comes from that is going to be for my kids.

Can you tell me about your children?

I have two boys. They’re 27 and 31. My oldest one was born in April, so he’s my diamond, and my youngest one was born in June, so he’s my pearl. They’re totally opposites of each other; it’s like mixing oil and water. When I say opposite, I mean totally opposite: one was born by day and the other was born at night, one’s into country and one’s into hip-hop, one dresses down and one dresses up, even down to jobs — one works as a night clerk, the other is a doorman at clubs.

Can you recite one of your poems?

Yes — this one is called “Inspiration.” Don’t look farther than you can see / For if you do — / You will see nothing / Don’t just stop and take a glance / For you might miss out on something / Take a look and make it last / For before too long / The future will be a past.

Why do you handwrite all of your poetry?

Writing seems a lot easier for me. It’s more personal; I don’t like electronics. By the time you’ve pulled out your phone or whatever, I’m already writing on a piece of paper. I’m old school.

Can you tell me about why you write poetry as well as any problems you’ve had along the way?

Poetry is an expression of what you feel; it gets a lot of stress out, it helps, it’s therapeutic. I like to make people happy — I like to let people know that they’re not the only ones in that position and that it’s not the end of the world. I write [poetry] for everybody. I like to see people smiling. Out of nowhere I just started writing once for Christmas, and my manager liked it, so he asked me to write Christmas poems. This was about five years ago, so I’ve been writing for the past four years for the book store. It was scary because I have stage fright — as you can see, I’m stuttering. Shortly after one of our coworkers had passed on, I had a dry spell. For the longest time, I couldn’t write. I actually wrote a poem for her about the time she worked for us — it was in honor of her.
How have students played a role in your life?

I like working with them. When I first got here I thought, well, a job’s a job. But I work with students now and I see their personalities stand out and their friendliness stand out; they smile a lot.

Does a particular writing experience stand out to you?

When I lived in D.C., we used to have a reading group [with] critiques. We would read things out loud and everyone would have a page of it that they would mark and tell us what we should change or could improve on. I am so bad with titles. They would help me with a title sometimes. I just read it and people would suggest things. But we had this one lady who was an English teacher, and she would not let go of a thing. One time, she got on this one girl’s case about her poetry. Some poets feel that whatever you write on paper is your final impression; you should leave it like that. But she kept saying, “You need to cut this shorter, you need to cut this shorter, you need to change this,” and the girl goes, “No. Why should I change this? It is what it is.” It helps when you get critiqued on your poetry and you can take their advice or leave it. But this one woman was so gung-ho about changing this to that, which is wrong. Leave it alone; it belongs to the person; the way they express it is their own.