I Think I Finally Get IT

So my last post was somewhat of a rant, and to clarify, I didn't mean for it come off as angry or upset... I just wanted to share my experiences with the studio with the class so that anyone who has yet to run into a similar situation would be able to avert it/handle it much better than I initially did. With that being said...

The cityofwriters.org web launch party here at the studio was all sorts of amazing on a multitude of levels. Although I did enjoy myself at AMP night, slam and beat poetry are not really my thing. Expressive, spoken art is not something I am acclimated with nor do I really enjoy it, although by all means I appreciate it as art and admire the courage that those who get on stage and pour their hearts out possess.

But the web launch party was a completely different story. Based on content of the readings alone, I found nearly all of the performers engaging and interesting. I particularly enjoyed one of the female St. Petersburg Times contributors, the one who shared one of her many "bar stories". She was witty and humorous, and her piece was well written and not only did I find my eyes locked on her while she spoke (my eyes tend to wander about the room once my extremely stunted attention span reaches its maximum) but I actually found myself genuinely laughing which, due to my aforementioned short attention span and lack of lust for all that is spoken art, is a feat in itself.

I was also unfamiliar with Peter Meinke, in terms of his work and, quite honestly, had never even heard his name before. Like I've previously mentioned, I spent the last five years in Gainesville and, even when I was home, live in the north Tampa area. As someone mentioned during our last class meeting, visually, he certainly fits the bill of a poet laureate, his face featuring bushy eyebrows, thick eyeglasses, and a shock of white hair sprouting from the top of his head. Considering this, I was preparing myself to be bored silly during his readings... and boy, was I wrong. He was not only well-spoken and well-versed (as any good poet should be) but hilarious and engaging, possessing that "je ne sais quoi" that facilitated a casual, conversational tone and a relaxing atmosphere (as he was the "headliner" of sorts, he seemed to set the tone for the rest of the evening). Needless to say, I was impressed with the experience as an audience member and left very surprised at how much I enjoyed the performances.

I clarified being impressed as an audience member above for a reason. As I was crossing the bridge on my way to the studio, I was anxious, hoping that Winnie would find something for me to do as an intern so that I would be able to accrue some additional hours instead of simply being here for the show; I had not signed up on the allusive and all-important volunteer spreadsheet that Winnie holds so near and dear to her heart. I arrived early and was asked to assist James as a parking attendant. I glanced outside and after witnessing the glazed over look in his eyes as he sat there, in the cold, bored out of his mind, I decided the extra few hours simply were not worth it and resigned myself to being an audience member. Just as I went to take a seat, I glanced over at the bar and was shocked at what I saw: Winnie was alone, being bombarded by a mob of customers looking for a glass of wine, a beer, or even just a soda. I jumped up and hopped behind the bar with her, immediately taking over one half of the work and helping Winnie get through the line quickly.

After we had satisfied the wine/beer/soda/cookie craving mob, Winnie looked over at me, gave me a hug, and told me (and I quote) "Wow Tiffany, you really saved my ass. Thank you so much - you have no idea how much I appreciate you being here and jumping in to save the day". Most of you know Winnie so I don't need to explain why an enormous sigh of relief escaped my mouth and the word "wow" kept repeating over and over in my mind. After the turmoil I experienced the first time I attempted to help out when not signed up, it was amazing to not only be given the opportunity to provide service during the web launch party, but to actually be overtly appreciated and, well, save the day.

I realize how stressful Winnie's job is. While many others involved with the studio revolve the body of their work around the creative process and bringing their ideas to fruition, Winnie takes on much of the mundane administrative/hospitality tasks; handling the money, making sure there are enough snacks and refreshments to keep the guests happy and money coming into the studio, and generally keeping the place clean and orderly, and the artistic, creative people she has to work with are typically so busy and all over the place that they not only are unable to help her with most of it but probably, in all likelihood, make her job more difficult at times.

When its all said and done, Winnie does what she does because she truly loves and cares about the studio; most importantly, she believes in it, and what Bob and his team of loyal, trusted, and creative people do.

In summation, I get it now. I'm not going to absolutely love every performance and event the studio puts on because some of them are just not me. And I'm not going to absolutely love how stressed out the staff gets before events and the feeling I get when, instead of being the wonderful, helpful intern I had hoped to be, I'm just in the damn way. But it's nights like the city of writers launch party that make it all worth it and a worthwhile experience. As an audience member, I was not only introduced to authors whom I've never heard of, but I truly enjoyed their work and have a multitude of avenues to explore now in my free time. From the intern point of view, not only was I able to garner more hours toward my ultimate goal, but I was able to help out someone who does so much for not only the studio, but the community as well... and that made me feel not only useful and worthwhile but, for lack of a better term, freakin' great.

The Studio@620

As most of you will remember, I was really nervous on the first day of class about this whole experience. I wasn't sure what I was walking into, and as I sat in my seat waiting for class to begin, it became apparent that many of the students in my class already knew the professor, making me anxious about being in an unconventional class at a brand new school. Then Bob Devin Jones came in and intimidated me infinitely more with his big personality and ambiguous goals for us as interns. As I walked out of class, I resolved to visit the studio as soon as possible to ease my nerves and figure out what was going on.

A few days later, I did just that. I was confused about where the studio was located to begin with, and within five minutes of being there, had my car towed. Nonetheless, I talked with Bob for a while and, with his big personality and still ambiguous expectations of me, he was able to put me at ease by explaining that as a volunteer, I could do just about anything I want and it would be helpful one way or another. He also invited me to an event at the studio that weekend, so I decided that I would go in order to get a sense of what the studio is really about.

I thought I had it all figured out as I waltzed in the door to work my first event. I looked around for Bob, and when I didn't see him anywhere, began to panic. I introduced myself to another volunteer and at her suggestion, I went to see Winnie in the kitchen to ask what I ould help with. I was not met with cheer and relief as I had hoped; Winnie began to panic at the realization that she was responsible for putting me to work when I wasn't signed up on the spreadsheet> Here I was, thinking that everyone would be so happy to have me come and help out, now feeling completely useless and stupid for missing Winnie's email about the necessity of signing up for hours. Instead of happy and relieved, she seemed almost upset at my appearance. Not only did I feel like a moron, I was convinced I made an awful first impression on someone important at the studio I was to intern at for the remainder of the semester.

Fast-forward a week and none of this even mattered anymore. Bob had alleviated the situation by assigned me to greeting duty himself that first night at the studio, and Winnie realized the day after the event that she had gotten my email wrong and explained that she gets very stressed during events. "Don't mind me" said Winnie, and I was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

I guess what I've learned is to chill out and not get so freaked out when little things happen that I make them into a big deal. I have a feeling I'm going to need to heed my own advice this semester as much as possible.