They Say The Sky's The Limit... But The Sky's About To Fall

Saturday's in Bolivar never seem to disappoint. Or at least, never seem to provide you with experiences that make you stay up at night and write out your thoughts. Whatever...

Today's adventures all began with a bike ride. Around 10:30 I awoke with the desire to take my bike all the way to somewhere. Unsure of what "somewhere" should be, I just decided to go. I rode all the way through the center of town, with the sounds of Deas Vail and The Low Anthem encouraging me to continue. As I passed the statue of Simon Bolivar, the town's hero, I wondered what he would think if he was to come back to life in this day and age, to find his likeness erected between a bank and an auto parts store. Definitely fitting for an explorer/conqueror type. Would he go nuts and throw a car through the bank?

Around that time I began to enter a most interesting part of town, an area that I had never been to until that moment. On the left side of the street were a few trailer homes, and some houses that looked as though about 10 years of garbage had erupted from the windows and doors, and now littered the yards. On my right was a house that seemed quite too big and fancy for anyone in Bolivar to live in. This pattern continued for a long while, and I tried to ride the middle of the road, trying to stay in my middle-class white American subclass category.

I wonder if those people ever meet in the middle of the road to talk about the day's events, or to trade handyman or cooking tips?


A little later I found myself in the park, where all of Bolivar it seemed was out and about, enjoying the beautiful day. I rode around the bend, and continued on around the lake. It always seems like there is a birthday party going on over there. I pulled over and took a break by the water, watching couples and families walk by. A small child across the lake approached a goose and almost lost his hand in the ensuing attack. Poor guy.

I try, as often as I can, to take in the world around me. I watch the people walking by, and wonder what kind of life they have led, what experiences they have had. Have they struggled? Have they felt victory? Have they ever stopped by a lake during a bike trip and contemplated the meaning of life?


I raced my thoughts back to the dorm, but they ended up beating me there, as they usually do. But one thing is for sure.

Life is a story, always unfolding. And we are writing the pages each day.

There's my 2 am wisdom. Feels like I just type until my brain shuts down.

Which is now.

Here's a picture.