Love Story <3

Sorry this isn't a regular post... but seriously, music is so amazing.. it's so important to me, and currently, since my ipod is finally recharged, I'm totally obsessed with it!

And anyways, this song has a lot to do with me... tomorrow I'm going to go see Romeo and Juliet at some theater - right after I do the Champ Math Test (wish me luck!!)

Also, I need to say... GO TAYLOR SWIFT!!! (she's the singer of this song... and because of that, totally rocks!)

Love Story lyrics - Taylor Swift lyrics

Love Story Video - Taylor Swift Music Videos

Music Videos by VideoCure

P.S. if your confused about how I deleted a post... I was going to post the lyrics to Hey Stephen.. which I also love, but changed to this video... so yeah, slight confusion there.

InVincible Tyson

Once again, I was along and on the run - well, kind of on the run. Actually, I was sitting in a chairlift heading up this gigantic mountain. A few chairs behind me, my attackers steadied their guns. A strong wind swept the chairs from side to side, almost throwing me off. This place was old - I doubted it’d been used in years - and the cable was loose around the track. Somehow, I’d gotten it to work… how, was a miracle. But here I was, one hundred meters above ground with nothing protecting me from the guns behind me besides open air and a thin metal seat.

I looked back just as the first shot rang out. I jumped back and the shot punctured the metal a few centimeters away from my arm. Relief was short-lived as I felt the chair slide backwards.

I looked up. Above me, the cable had just started to go back upwards, meeting the post 8 meters ahead. The chairs were designed to tilt back and forth, to stop the customer of this long gone ski resort from falling out when the cable drooped down. But now the top of the chair was rusted, and the grip not tight enough to hold on to the cable.

I slid back some more. A terrifying thought of me and the Bishop’s trainees battling it out in mid air, both stuck in the middle came into my head. No, no, no. That couldn’t happen. There were two of them, each with their own supplies of guns and knives. I was alone with one knife. It wasn’t rocket science about who would win, even with my skill in fighting.

I needed to make the chair lighter. I looked over at my pack. Food, water and spare clothes. I didn’t need all of that stuff, right? Quickly, I unloaded some of the water and food, along with a few clothes. They tumbled below me and I looked down for some marking. Maybe I could go find them again later.

A rock jutted out of a steep cliff face below, and a pair of pants looped around the peak. Perfect, I thought, then turned my attention back to the chairlift. It’d made steady progress, climbing slowly but surely uphill for a few meters now.

But what worried me was the cable. It seemed to be derailing from the track above. Already, two of the wheels had lost the cable and were slowly rolling still. As I watched, horror-stricken, the third wheel let go of the cable. The drop was hardly noticeable with the wind, stick rocking the chair back and forth.

But there was nothing I could do.

Quickly, I checked behind. The wind had caught the Trainees off-guard and they were having trouble setting up the sniper they had chosen to use. It wasn’t the smartest choice of gun - even a hand-held would have a better chance of getting me - but I realized that they were playing. Smiles shone on their faces as they looked up at me.

They knew they would get me before the chairlift was over. They were taking their time, creating a story to tell their friends once they got home. I shot a man out of a chairlift with a sniper. I could hear them already, bragging.

Solid jerk. Only one wheel remained, and it didn’t look like it’d remain for long. As soon as the last wheel let go, the whole cable would fall until it was caught by the remaining ones beside. It was going to get pretty scary. I wrapped my arms around the seat and armrest, and hugged onto my lifebag with all my might.

Drop.

Fall.

Caught.

The sudden jerk stopped my dreamlike fall with a halt. Chairs ahead and behind slid closer to me, suddenly the middle of a steep v in the already swooping line.

A chair crashed into my knees. Immobilized by pain, I stayed stationary. Slowly, I tried to move my foot.

I could move it. Great. I pushed the chair away and used my hands to help my legs up onto the seat of the chair.

Another fall. The post ahead of me let go of the cable. The weight of the chairs caused the loose cable to be pulled through.

I ended up about 10 meters from the ground. Enough to jump? I hoped so. Quickly, I tied my bag to my legs, hoping the added weight would ensure my safe landing on the ground head-first. I planned to do a somersault to take the impact and avoid my legs getting hurt even more. Already, my body killed.

I jumped, freefalling through the air until I hit the ground, right on target. The soft, lush green forest of young trees and ferns had overtaken an old ski hill, and the added padding made the impact somewhat lighter.

I was still blinded with pain. Eyes closed, I rolled in the direction I hoped was towards the forest. A few shots splattered the ground above me, and I think one of them shaved off some skin on my torso.

But I made it. The cool earth of the forest was moist against my cheek and I lay there for minutes, just waiting for the pain to subside. Call it a weakness, but I didn’t like to be in pain. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

But a few moments later I knew I needed to get back up again. The Trainees were, no doubt, bound to follow me, and the longer I stayed here the longer I risked being seen. I started to jog, slowly, making sure to be careful about how I put my weight on my knees.

I worked my way diagonally across the mountain. I went down, hoping they would think that was the easy way and think a pro like me would go up - but super pros like me go down.

After about twenty minutes of running, I hit another hill. This one had a chairlift too, but only a small one. It did, however, have a very nice landing with a very nice bike resting against a bench.

I grabbed the bike, knowing two things for sure.

One: There were at least 3 other people on this mountain.

Two: Someone was going to be very mad that I stole their bike.

It was almost a perfect fit - maybe a little bit too small, but I had a habit of standing up on bikes anyways.

I rode away. The bike was top quality - disc brakes (which were perfect for mud) a sweet odometer to check my speed, back and front suspension and an awesomely durable but light frame. Across the middle bar, a name had been messily drawn in front of the brand name. Tyson.

Yes, I included my bike - but hey, I'm the writer! I can do whatever I want... and anyways, the whole bike riding scene will be pretty cool.

Anyways, how'd you like that? It takes place partway through the book (I skipped, lol). If you have any questions ask me!

A Great And Terrible Beauty - BOOK REVIEW

A few days ago I started to read A Great And Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray. From all the great reviews and the really well-done synopsis, I thought this book was going to be good - really good.

But it wasn't.

The story takes place in the turn-of-the-century 18/19 hundreds. It seems to me that the book should have taken place in a different time, maybe around the middle of the 18 hundreds instead because they didn't seem to act at all what I think my great-great grandparents would - but hey, I hardly know anything about those times, so I may be wrong). But in this time, in England, the world is filled with icky pompous (and yes, they are pompous) men and humble, dainty, faint-hearted women, all of which, seem to be speaking a wierd mixture of modern-day English with some olden stuff you can find on Wikipedia.  Their thoughts, however, are totally modern.)

This book does not sound like the type of book girls would like, right? (Well, at least not me). I thought it was going to be about how Gemma, the wierdly-named main character, overcomes all this and leads the world into a better state of mind about women (and ends up killing all those disgusting men).

But that didn't happen. Instead, A Great And Terrible Beauty was exactly that, except without the great. A Terrible Beauty. Filled with vain, dimwitted girls and arrogant, deserves-to-die men. The girls can't stop talking about how pretty they look (along with the whole gossiping thing... they are Queens of gossip) and how they wish to find Prince Charming (who, most likely, they dream to be the type of guy who orders them around like slaves) and how their favourite dress has a stain in it.

Oh no! Those girls make me sick. They are a disgrace to the female race.

But who would've thought the book would be that bad? I mean, the back cover is amazingly interesting and good... the beginning starts out the same (ish) but then... then you meet Pippy and Felicity and Ann, all obsessed about their 50-year-old husbands and how beautiful they are (Insert scream here).

And as for the magic? Ooohh.. how delightful! The magic, which was supposed to seem dark and dangerous comes out as a perfect little paradise which, of course, the girls get into trouble for trying to take back.

Yes, they try to take the magic from Paradise and make their lives perfect. Perfect looks, perfect French... for a disgusting moment in the book, they are perfect. Eww. No one wants to read a book about perfect people, especially not me. And I mean, seriously, did Libba Bray (the author) actually think she could get away with a simple Adam and Eve story? Oh, don't steal from the perfect world - you'll have to stay!

Wow. Nearing the end of the book, I found myself skipping pages until I found the only character I liked (who now, was so impressive that I forget his name). Suprisingly, my favourite character was the only one she based off a real person.

I'm sorry if you love this book or I came off a little harsh, but I needed to vent my frusteration. I read this entire book, two days wasted, and now I'm left with a disgusting feeling (oh, did I mention her extremely mature dreams? (Which luckily I was able to skip with only minor scarring) but now I feel.. well... betrayed. All those kind words and good reviews and suggestions to read this book from friends.. and now I'm left with no amazingly good story of rebellation against the vile system of the somewhere-around 1800's, but a tale of 4 vain girls in their very vain lives, complaining how none of them are beautiful enough.

I feel like I've been tricked, and it's not a good feeling.

But hey, if a story of vain girls and pretty, non-dark magic makes you smile, go out and get A Great And Terrible Beauty. Maybe it'll be just what your looking for.

But it wasn't at all what I was looking for. No, now I'm going to get out a nice book with girls who aren't afraid to show their wrists and don't care about how their facial expression is when they stab their enemy (which, in A Great And Terrible Beauty, never happens because there doesnt seems to be much in the way of enemies - besides a few "friends" who gossip rude things. Oh my!) Maybe I'll read The Hunger Games - that's a nice, dark book with plenty of killing. Definately my type de livre.

All-in-all, I, Sarah, dislike this book MORE than Twilight.

And that's saying something.

Thank-You

A few days ago I got Google Analysis, and now, 7 days later, I have some amazing news.

As of today, I have readers in 4 different countries!

I seriously reloaded the page and couldn't believe my eyes. Welcome Germany and Ukraine to my awesome blog! I hope you liked it :)

I feel so accomplished now, knowing that my blog is so popular! (ok, so Analytics says there have been 21 unique visitors... but that's still almost 3 per day!)

It's times like these when it pays to have a blog. Somewhat. I still only have 5 commenters! (Ever, not just the constant ones). But oh well. (coughcommentcough)

But a big, major THANKS to everyone reading and commenting all around the world (or 4 countries).


Besides checking up on Analytics every day (religously) I haven't done much. Bikeriding, very little writing, and a lot of school (although not so much work). It's finally started to feel like Summer around here... and although the warmth is nice, I hate shorts. I'm more of a jeans, t-shirt and jacket girl, not a tank-top and shorts one. Add in pool parties and I'm running to the nearest patch of snow. (Isn't it always that way though? You want the Summer in Winter and the Winter in Summer... always speeding up time, never wanting it to slow down... and then one day you look back and realize you little you've matured in the past few years and want to go back, back to less responsiblity and worries...)

Anyways, I'll end this with a new and scary thought:

The Car Chase, my latest short-story, is... well.. a short story. And it was Career Day in school (parents come in and talk about their careers - and of course, there was a writer) so it got me thinking.... would The Car Chase be magazine-quality? Would it need a better name? Do short-fiction-publishing magazines exist without going bankrupt within a year? In Canada?

Questions.... but it would be amazingly cool to have the answers as yes, and my story in a magazine.