Another Day Has Passed

Another day in the life of Jessica has passed. Another sun has risen and then set. Another bowl of cereal eaten. And here I am, the same place I was last night typing on this blog. In my room, music playing (Stand By Me), lights out, on the verge of sleep. But yet I type.

My family has left me. Everyone has left me. My mom, stepdad and little brother took off to Portland this morning and won't be home until tomorrow. Michael is in Portland with his friends who I just talked to for like an hour acting as a woman named Barbara. Don't ask. It's just me and Gage here at home. Good old Gage. I couldn't go to Portland because I have to teach the four and five year olds at church tomorrow. Every other Sunday I teach a lesson. Tomorrow is on Forgiving Others....

Today was a special day. I had the opportunity to visit Wal-Mart, and let me tell you, it is one great big thrill. I've come to the conclusion that Roseburg is not much different from New York City. I mean, we have our very own GHETTO. And we simply refer to it as Wal-Mart. You all who live in this town know what I'm talking about, and maybe it's like that all over the country, but it seems like Wal-Mart always brings out the best of the County. Take today for instance: My brother and I were walking into the store when we hear yelling. We look to the right of the entrance, just in front of the pop machines, to see two police officers tackling a guy to the ground and each shooting him with a taser gun. The guy is screaming, "Okay, Okay!" I thought, "Only at Wal-Mart." And then nothing particularly significant happend in the store, but it was the same as it always is - pure pandamonium caused by people who could care less about the person next to them, but in reality probably should because more than likely they're related to them one way or another. I see more braless, teethless, clothesless, rude, pushy, onery, inconsiderate, gross, not smart people in that store than I do anywhere else in town. I'm serious. It's quite disturbing, actually. I never know what to expect when I venture into the GHETTO. Roseburg has a GHETTO. That is so cool. Harlem? Who needs it! We have Wal-Mart.

I attended the Rodeo tonight. Last year was my first year going, and so I decided to make it a second year in a row. I went with my friend Elli and we both wore ridiculous straw hats that were just blaring, "Wannabe." Yeah, here I am, don't ride horses, don't care for animals, really, hate beer and its smell, hate smoke, and I'm at a rodeo. And then I try to fit in, but really, all I'm doing is branding myself as clueless. Nevertheless, I had a good time. Well, most of the time. First of all, everyone and their dog was lighting up around us. I found it very suprising that people were allowed to smoke in the grandstands around all the people. One would think with all the tobacco awareness and education and public facility laws that they would have to take their drags outside the arena. But no. They smoke around us in all directions, and it's quite disturbing knowing I'm breathing in crap worse than they are choosing to smoke. Yeah, it's fine if they want to kill themselves. Just don't push me six feet under with you, please. And then I was sitting on the bleacher grandstand seat when all the sudden there was a "Swoosh!" and I was soaked. The little boy behind me had kicked his Big Gulp pop and it soaked my pants and butt and purse and keys and everything near me. Haha. I move down and shake it off, especially when he says, "Sorry Mam." How can one resist that? So besides the cold wet feeling on my butt cheeks, all is good. And then I hear a crash and popcorn comes flying all around me. He had also knocked his popcorn bucket over. Good. At least I had sprite plastered on me so that popcorn stuck. I knew I was hungry! And I did get fried bread! To die for. I have now discovered two events a year where I can get my fix of fried bread: the Fair and the Rodeo. I will be at both from now on. But besides those unfortunate incidents, the rodeo was fun. And Elli and I decided we're marrying cowboys because they look really cute in boots, Wranglers, striped cowboy shirts, belt buckles and hats. As long as they keep the hats on, we'll marry them. I mean, who doesn't want a man who can rope a calf in 12 seconds? Come on! :)

Ok, so that is all. I must get some shuteye. Remember to save the world.