So, I'm on the phone with Jason right now--which means this may not be as coherent as usual. Well, maybe being incoherent is normal for me, I'm not really sure. :-/
Today was our literary field trip, a trip we spent in Natchez during a convention there where my class and I learned about Southern culture, humor, and roots. Speakers there were mostly public officials and college professors--my favorite of which being Trudier Harris, a writer and professor from Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
After her speech we planned to head back to school--but in a random act of kindness and spontaneity: Jules bought me a copy of Miss Trudier's memoir "Summer Snow." Now, earlier in the day, immediately following her speaking, I went to her autographing table and got her to sign my notebook--embarrassingly mentioning the fact that I could not afford a copy of any of her M A N Y novels, but wished I could. Now that Jules had gotten me my very own copy of her book of non-fiction essays (something that we decided was a very necessary purchase since it would assist me and lead me down the right path in my own writing), I of course needed her to sign this more appropriate item.
By the time I held this book in my hands, Miss Trudier had already returned to her seat--ready to hear the next speaker. This unfortunate turn of circumstances led to an extremely awkward and somewhat charming search party led by Jules and myself. At the time, we considered our options, weighed the less illogical ones, and decided standing uncomfortably and eventually just crossing the entire front of the auditorium to search for her was the best idea.
While crossing awkwardly, me fighting the urge to grab onto Jules's hand like a tiny toddler, we catch the eye of our executive director, Suzanne Hirch. Miss Suzanne is this tiny, dynomite of a blonde woman that commands attention to such extreme extents that while at the convention people mistaked her as being the woman in charge--reffering to her as "The woman in the beautiful white suit." Miss Suzzane, pitying our awkward demeanors no doubt, asked if we were looking for someone. We said, "Yes, Miss Harris--we're trying to get an autograph before we leave." She pointed her out to us and as we walked over I was certain every bifolcialed eye was on me, and I was never happier that Jules was beside me--helping me hold my composure and stay brave and mature-like.
She was so tickled to see that we had saught her out just for a signing, and after hearing that Jules bought the book for me her sister--though I'm not sure which one--commented that she hadn't seen such a nice gesture in quite a while. She signed my book, "Looking for your signing your first book for me!" Perfect.
Field trip win.
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