Doom and General Incompetency

My sister skateboards down our driveway into the garage. It is warm and sunny outside, though exceedingly clear, like a winter day. I want to learn to skate, so she hops off and I change the music in the CD player. Though it's not on the CD I insert, The Decemberist's "Oceanside" comes on. I can hear more clearly than ever before the chord structure and strumming patterns, as if the crisp air aids the sound waves on their way to my ear. I realize that for too long, I have been attempting to play this song incorrectly. I will never amount to the musician I should. After aa few minutes spent putting one foot on the skateboard and promptly falling off, I go back inside.

We file into a dimly lit movie theater. Someone inside tells us the movie will not be starting until an hour later, and this is definitely not okay with me. My friends sit down to wait patiently, but I leave again.

Anne Bertucio has left me a note that says "SNACKS." I realize that I was supposed to be organizing the food for the floor meeting that is convening in a matter of minutes. As people begin to gather, I have to tell them that I failed in my food mission. I think to myself that it's because I only just got the note, but in my subconscious I know that it really is my fault.

I have been jettisoned into space with several nuclear missiles. I see that I am drifting towards a glowing orb, which I soon come to realize is the sun. It is my mission to destroy it before it engulfs the earth. I fire several missiles into its center, but nothing happens. The fiery mass grows larger and larger, and I know that soon I will be incinerated. Before this, in an attempt to document my experiences before it's too late, it tell ground control that space is awesome. Like hot dogs. I brace myself for the searing pain, and as the heat increases, I bring a book of instructions up to cover my eyes. Nothing happens. Bringing the book down again, I find I have somehow been turned around and am heading away from the Sun. I rejoice. A book has once again saved my life.

Park

I am sitting in a park just off Ambaum, it has been raining and I can see the ocean through the firs. Water drips off of the branches into a birdbath, catching the sun and my eye.
Nearby three boys, around twelve years old each, gather around a computer behind me, reseaching other parks to go to. They ask me what my favorite park was when I was their age, and I think. I tell them about Lincold park, Seahurst, and Discovery park, but obviously they already know about those. I think harder and can almost remember my very favorite park, but I cannot remember what made it so amazing, or where it was.