Re-fried Tortillas

My eating habits are terrible when I'm sick. Because of being sick, I usually just lie around all day. Because of lying around all day, I don't pay attention to normal breakfast/lunch/dinner times. Because of this, I eat the wrong things at the wrong times, and regret it because my metabolism also is kind of broken when I am sick.
The last time I was sick, I managed to change what should have taken five minutes to eat into three hours and a brick.
 I found myself making a cheese quesadilla. (That is pronounced with a y sound for those two 11's by the way. Don't even go there.)
Someone had already made a gigantic pot of soup. I think at one point earlier in the day I may have said something along the lines of wanting soup, and it was interpreted as "let's make a gigantic pot of soup."
I did not want the soup then.
I wanted a cheese quesadilla.
I arrogantly spurned the soup, and heated up a pan to cook a tortilla. (Two technically, if we are going to go by the actual composition of a quesadilla.)
After I went through the arduous task of shredding the cheese, melting it into the tortilla, and then cutting it into quarters, (It's like cutting the grilled cheese diagonally, you can't just bite into that thing) I slapped it ceremoniously(I am very ceremonious about food, and it is definitely a bad thing,) onto a plate, and then got distracted.
Over the course of the day, though I had not done anything productive in terms of school-work, I had certainly gotten a lot done in regards to my blog. I made it actually look kind of nice, and added some quality content.(Sure.)
I was satisfied as I looked over my work and made a few last minute edits. It was looking great.
I took a bite of my tortilla.
I quickly looked at my plate to make sure that I hadn't had it switched with a piece of cardboard.
It took only a few seconds to realize that I had gotten lost in edits and revisions of literary masterpieces(yeah right), allowing the heat from the culinary masterpiece(yeah right here too) to mischievously escape into the great unknown.
Grudgingly I detached my rear end from the comfort of its seat, and returned to the kitchen to reheat my tortilla.
I went through the arduous process of modifying the state of matter in which the cheese was held, and when it had returned to satisfying temperatures and runnyness, I sat back down to continue writing awful limericks.
I picked at my tortilla, and wondered how it had so quickly increased its Mohs scale rating, until I comprehended that the same phenomena had struck.
Again I visited the kitchen, said hi to the sink for no reason whatsoever, and returned my lunch to the pan. The pan and the food were by now of course very good friends, and they chatted about life while I broodingly nibbled unsalted peanuts.
Now there is a funny thing about reheated food. I don't know the science behind it, but it is not the same as the first time you cooked it.
Ever.
Sometimes it is better. Or so my parents claim on leftover nights. I have yet to experience a positive turning of the event. At any rate, there comes a time when your cheddar has been heated and cooled so much that it refuses to drop its viscosity, no matter what you do. And flour has no laws against becoming granite, no matter how many times they tell you that alchemy does not work.
The third time I returned the food to my mouth, I quit. I was not going to heat it up again, only to forget and let it try to be the first object to hit absolute zero.
Now that isn't to say that I was going to waste it. That would be bad for the environment. And by that I mean that it would go in the garbage, and those dang squirrels would attack it and break their teeth.
I smothered it in hot sauce and began chewing away.
Like a proverbial beaver with a log I battled, except that I have human teeth, not beaver teeth, and I can't ignore splinters, even if they are from re-fried tortillas instead of willow trees. I don't actually know what kind of trees beavers chew, and am pretty sure that they don't swallow them. Or add hot sauce. They just make houses.
I probably should have made a house out of that thing which had once been food, but instead I tried to see if my stomach acid would dissolve it. I assume that it did, though I can't be a hundred percent sure.
For all intents and purposes, I ground the quesadilla into what could have been sand, or could have been flour that had been put past its breaking point. I'm no longer quite decided on whether there is actually a difference.

Book Review: The King's Gambit, by John McNichol.

Part-of-Brain-that-is-the-Editor's Note: This review was supposed to be published a long time ago, but I was lazy and never got around to it. I apologize. 

In our current world, there are not many good books for ten to twelve year-olds.

The King's Gambit, is one such book.
I am something of a fan of John McNichol's other book series, a steampunk alternate-history G.K. Chesterton as a teenager battling Martians alongside H.G. Wells, (Yep) and but I have to say, I've been waiting for something like this, something directly from his own ideas, rather than a mash-up of some other authors stuff. Not that that isn't good, but Mr. McNichol is quite a good writer, and I think that he should definitely branch out to more of his own worlds. Much potential do I see. (I don't know why I worded that sentence like a small green alien in a mildly popular movie trilogy.)
Gambit is definitely a tentative step into these waters, and I wholeheartedly endorse it. It isn't a perfect book, but it's a fun read, an enjoyable read, and definitely worth the time.
There are a couple issues( an illustration depicts a revolver as the weapon of an FBI agent, which doesn't make sense,) Edward King, the main character, acts just a little bit too old for his age, (Not that I have anything against his philosophy, but sometimes it feels that he just lacks a bit of that adolescent smarty-pants-ness that intelligent kids his age have,) and dialogue can get kind of cheesy at times. But the story as a whole is unique, quirky, and a light-hearted adventure story, which is something I truly love, and so should you, because these kinds of stories benefit mankind. (Really. I'l extrapolate on that sometime.)
In relation to his earlier works, the Young Chesterton Chronicles, Gambit is appropriate for a somewhat less mature audience, which is cool, (as I noted in the beginning, 10-12 year olds get the short end of the stick often as far as literature is concerned,) though a slightly older fellow like myself can still enjoy it as well. Where Catholicism is concerned, I also think his style has improved here. Mr. McNichol has stated at least once that he doesn't want to tone down the importance of Catholicism in his books, (which I understand and can agree with) but in his latest novel, he is more successful at integrating it. Rather than Catholicism being something that seems a little tacked on to the adventure story, everything seems rather more naturally part of the world, allowing narrative to move more smoothly as a whole. It still is a bit bumpy, but it's less jarring here than it has been in YCC so far.
EDIT: Oh, the book itself. I forget this. It's about chess and philosophy and perfect grass. And it's about Edward King. I would put it half in Sc-fi, half in Fantasy, but I don't really know. Fiction works. ;) I don't want to say too much, because when a review basically gives you a play-by-play of a book, half the impetus to read just disappears.
I like this book. It's good enough that it is on my "may re-read" list, which is fairly high praise as far as I am concerned.
Don't expect too much from The King's Gambit. It isn't a masterpiece, and it is oriented towards middle-schoolers, but it's better than 39 Clues Diary of a Wimpy Kid a majority of the books floating through the mainstream right now, and considerably better at that. So what to get for your literate, thoughtful, Catholic nephew in the fifth grade? Take a Gambit.*



*I will never apologize for any puns, ever.

Wrap-up for Freeflighting Cycle 1, plus plans for the blog...

“Sandpaper” is somewhat of a misnomer actually, since sandpaper is rather nothing like sand, and in fact, is called so because it reduces other substances to sand, rather than being sand itself. It should be called “sand-making paper,” if one wanted to be completely understandable. But people get into a habit of calling things by the names that were probably given to them by individuals who weren’t thinking, and so we are stuck in a vicious cycle, with terms such as “sandpaper,” and “feather duster,” and “toilet paper.”

The above is an excerpt from something I wrote when I was very angry. I don't remember the exact details. The story was weird, and involved many monologues of this sort, but for some reason I think that it is funny, and though I plan on burning the whole thing eventually, I may release bits and pieces if I am so inclined*. 

Because.

Just Because. 

In other news, I only put that there because this entire post is something of a monologue, and I don't want to get into a habit of that. I want this blog to remain mostly just a place where I put some decent stories and poems**. So I put a little bit of a story here, and justify myself. 

I digress. 

This is mostly to explain what in the world Freeflighting is about and what I plan on doing with it, and what I have planned for SAC over the next few months.

Yes, Freeflighting is a serialized maybe-I-will-finish-this-someday kind of story. I plan on fleshing it out a lot, making sure that the whole thing makes sense, and maybe forcing my friends to give me a few illustrations before the end. I expect the final result to be 30+ chapters, but I really don't know. 

Anyways, the first cycle, which is the first draft of chapters 1-5, is now finished. However, I want every post anyone clicks on here to be a good read, and the first draft of Freeflighting (especially the first three chapters.) aren't what I consider to be a good read. There are going to be a lot of changes in the next drafts, stylistic, plot-wise and character-wise. 

 I'll leave it up for now, but eventually the first draft will be recycled over to my other blog, so that this place doesn't get cluttered. That will happen around the time that I post the next draft, which might be the third draft. (I'll probably keep 2 to myself, so that you get a decent read next time, through every chapter.) 

The system that I am working out, is that each draft I will add five chapters. So first draft= 5 chapters. 2nd draft= 10 chapters. 3rd draft=15 chapters. etc. (I am doing that way because it keeps me motivated more than anything else.)

So if I get a thirty plus chapter book in the end, that would mean I've gone through about six or seven drafts. I might make a couple more drafts after the whole story is finished, just for polish and everything. Hopefully, it will be something worth reading. If I and any sample readers who I might have by then decide that it is worth reading, I'll find some way to make it downloadable as an e-book or something. (Free of course.) 

That pretty much sums up everything about Freeflight. I don't want-right now- to talk about actual content, because it is all very subject to change so early on, but maybe I'll make some commentary or Q&A's eventually if enough people are interested. 

In between now and the next draft I release, I have a bunch of short stories and stuff in mind. Current ideas and early writing include something I mentioned on Facebook (Refried Tortillas) which is in the same vein as my older stories (complaining about how food is out get me. Yes, I know that it is very First World Problem-y. That is why it is funny to me at least,) as well as a tentative war story about a few rugged and battle hardened specialized shock troops. Kind of. ;) 

I also plan adding in a book review that is very long overdue, (I wrote it a long time ago and should have released it,) and may or may not have an essay or two on literary criticism, plus at least one more fun story. 

A lot yeah, but I don't have to get it all done in a month. (Unlike school.) I have as long as I want, though I do plan on increasing the amount of stuff I put up. Two or three posts a month maybe, as long as I am able to juggle my other responsibilities. 

 That's pretty much all I have. Thanks for reading this far, because it shows that you are actually interested in what happens here. That in itself is a pretty awesome thing. The biggest motivation I have for writing is that people other than myself want to read what I put out. Thanks again, to everybody (all four or five of you :D ) who have continued to read my stuff, because what is a story without a reader? Just ink on a page. (or random pixels.)

EDIT: P.S. I should mention the awesome artwork that has been given me by the one and only Olaf Tollefsen, who blogs about Christianity and stuff at Unleavened Ministries with a few other gents. New cover photo here on the blog, and a different one over at the Facebook page. Much thanks to this guy, who always says yes when I ask for drawings(or anything really, he was even willing to try to get me a sword.)

*I will concede that sandpaper and sand both have something of a gritty feel, but otherwise I stand by the statement. 

**Yea right. You aren't getting any poems unless I am feeling very mean someday.