What am I doing? The answer was simple, I was staring. But, staring at what? Oh, it’s a list of directions, but they’re not directing me they’re leaving me more confused. The book was fairly confusing and left me asking more questions than answers. The story’s ending was so unsatisfying, and as a reward for reading the story, I was gifted a story that I had to write by Wednesday. What am I doing? Looks like nothing, but I’m staring at a blank document just thinking. Thinking… About what? A busy week, that’s only going to get busier if I don’t finish it. Walking around without direction, just thinking. Finally, a thought worth thinking popped into my head. The plot for this story, but as I continued walking I continued thinking. I didn’t write down the plot in time, and I forgot. I started stressing because if I didn’t do this I wouldn’t have time on Wednesday to work on my other due assignments. I knew I had to write about something, and it was time I put all those thoughts into good use. I finished my Spanish test, which I thought was light because I grew up speaking Spanish. Once again, I was just staring at a blank screen just thinking. What am I doing? This time I had an answer, I was writing. Finally putting the pen to paper. I wonder how this story will end, I wonder how that story ended. I wonder how tomorrow will be, I wonder how today will end, I wonder how long the story will be. I wonder. Can someone tell me? How am I supposed to know when the story isn’t done yet? What am I doing? How don’t I know when I’m the one writing the story? I know what I’m doing but I don’t know why I’m doing it. Why am I leaving this rant on a cliffhanger? But I’m not, instead, I’m going to write the rest of this story and finally get my academic career in order. You know what I’m doing I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about how good this story is going to be, and how my grades are going to finally bounce back. Yeah, I can’t wait to see that play out.

Camping. Disconnected, alone, beautiful. Camping is one of the most important parts of my life. Yosemite Valley, that’s where I go almost every year. There were three scooters. I couldn’t use two of them because they were my cousins’, but when I was able to use one it felt great. Sadly, that came at the price of my cousin’s little brother not being able to ride with us. The world seemed smaller. Funny, because of how truly large this place is. So much to explore, but I was limited to the campgrounds. Everything and nothing on the outside, how badly I wanted to go. Sure the campgrounds might’ve been better for smaller things like a scooter, but at some point going up and down the loop will tire someone out. 

I was finally broken out of that prison and I took a risk, how thrilling it felt but how vulnerable I was. Others saw a group of kids acting dumb racing through traffic, but I felt the thrill of being free. Slow, dumb, and funny looking. That’s how we might’ve looked. Going into the huge road meant for only bikes made me feel. Fast, genius for using a scooter and cutting so much confusing road, and cool. Once me and my gang of cousins got to the village we had fun. Finally being able to do whatever, I spent my time at the pizza parlor at Curry Village. The food tasted even better being surrounded by friends I have countless memories with. What made it better was how great the food was. When the sun was starting to set we set off into the sunset back into camp. Glancing at such a beautiful view of Half Dome setting. Marvelous, mysterious, and completely beautiful those 3 words describe Yosemite. Flying through the trees on the tiny scooter gave the feeling of never wanting to leave. Finally feeling connected to something, that something being nature, and being not alone as the infinite beauty and wonder of the park gave me thoughts and questions. That gave me company alongside my cousins. Once we reached our campgrounds, my mom busted me because my friends brought back chip bags. Still it was worth it, I felt like an outlaw motorcyclist when all I was was a kid on a scooter.