Saying Goodbye to Small Talk

Here we go with another Hastings story! Ohhhh boy.

I have to preface this by pointing out that I am truly terrified of talking. (I should totally insert some epic story about how I almost had my tongue cut out when I was seven or something here, but I promise, this isn't quite that intense.) However, I have good reason because I am the worst conversationalist ever, and thus I embarrass myself often. Add a terrible sense of comic timing to a smidgen of shyness and BAM! There goes my shot at being a politician!

But today, I realized that maybe I am only freaking myself out. Of course I was reading in my little bookstore oasis (This time it was Mockingjay - see my previous post to get more info on this newfound hobby) when I coincidentally came across my best friend Emily. She informed me that she and a few other Student Council members were designing t-shirts, and I agreed to help them out. (Our t-shirts are really legit, by the way!) At the conclusion of the meeting, though, we came to that awkward part of the conversation where no one really knows how to politely say goodbye. ...Do you hug, or nod, or run out before anyone notices you're gone? Yeeeeah... So we all just kind of stood around, twiddled our thumbs and made small talk. Cooper and Emily eventually faced the maladroit farewell, but Katie and I couldn't quite bring ourselves to part.

Thank goodness.

In the middle of Hastings, in the middle of the African American fiction section, Katie and I had the most engaging conversation I have had in some time. We talked about school, about our favorite people, about our future plans, about our fears. There was no stress, no small talk about the weather, no trying. Just talking.

Three hours later, we got kicked out of Hastings because they were closing.

Maybe the problem with talking is that we are so worried about how we appear, we forget who we are.

Thanks, Katie, for reminding me.

I might never have the conversationalism of John F. Kennedy, but I'll always have the spirit of Angela Kettle. And maybe that's more important than silly conversationalism anyway.