Category Archives: Movies

WHY I THINK KRISTEN STEWART CHEATED ON ROBERT PATTINSON – GUEST BLOG BY TRACY EMERY


Kristen Stewart at Hollywood Life Magazine’s 7...

Kristen Stewart at Hollywood Life Magazine’s 7th Annual Breakthrough Awards English actor Robert Pattinson at the Twilight premiere. November 2008 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

WHY I THINK KRISTEN STEWART CHEATED ON ROBERT PATTINSON – GUEST BLOG BY TRACY EMERY

Can I start off by saying a big warm Thank You! To Alex Kennedy for allowing me post on http://www.youngadultfictionblog.com (I’m keeping my pen busy, Alex.)

Now I deal with a lot of people within relationships, to their first meets, to their sorrowful break-ups. Now we look at the Hollywood stars and believe they have it all, the big mansions, the fast shiny cars, the beautiful partner and a bank account that is topped to the brim. But at the end of the day, they are only people, with urges and impulses.

Kristen Stewart, (Bella – Twilight Saga) is a young attractive woman, to look at her you wouldn’t believe she had any problems within this world and to top it all off she has her hubby Rob (R-Patz)

Kristen Stewart of "Twilight" fame p...

Kristen Stewart of “Twilight” fame plays on the vampire mystique at the 82nd Academy Awards, March 7, in Hollywood, Calif. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But ladies we all know if we get everything we ever wanted the only thing we would fear is ‘How long will it last?’ for most of us we would go with the flow and see where our chips falls. But when the whole K-Stew/R-Patz frenzy began, I started to see the toll it had on Miss Stewart.

We all had to have seen it… The screaming girls shouting for Rob, telling him they loved him, hurtling pure abuse at his hand-held girlfriend for even being close to him. The female superstars telling him they are jealous of Kristen. And some of these women are attractive and that gets to us girls.

I believe dark thoughts started to cloud her judgement, thinking Rob will one day leave her for someone who is more a Hollywood icon starlet than a co-star and friend.

 

Her mistake was not talking to her loving boyfriend. – FIRST RULE OF ANY RELATIONSHIP!

No one just wakes up one day from a dream life they acquired and say “Hey, I’m going to do the dirty on the one thing I love most in this world.” …Events arise and miscommunication always has a finger in there. At the end of the day, this is just speculation.

And also, we know Hollywood like its publicity-stunts, this could be one… Who knows?

But if it isn’t, we all make mistakes in our lives, it’s how we cope when the storms arrives at our feet, which shows who we truly are. But if she wants him back, I say….. YOU GO GIRL!! You deserve him, you two work well together and I see the chemistry between you both.

And on a small note before I finish, I was not team Jacob, I was never team Edward… I am and always have been Team Bella Swan!

I have been Tracy Emery and you have been reading what I think.

 

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My Lost Movie Poetry


Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

So as you guys know I have been writing with the wonderful Just Patty on some poetry. In this post lies the lost poetry which never made the final-cut. Oh and look out for the movie poem I wrote in here too, I hope you enjoy!

My Lost Poetry

You tremble like you’ve seen a ghost,

Strangle this pencil until you’ve seen it broke,

Angle this metal around my throat,

Angry heckles cheer me and goad,

The blood floods as a tap-dancing spectacle,

Fee-Fi-Foe-Fum; here I come,

Trampling on all of you speckles,

Top gear, can’t stop here,

Forgotten voice and a lost ear,

Dumb,

Broken toys and stolen tears,

Young,

Frozen poise with lonely years,

Numb,

I’m a chocking noise, coughing clear,

Stun,

I’m faced with a frightening facial facelift which leaves me faceless, let’s face it,

A fascist facade merely frames him.

You fondle my trigger,

You eat this blast,

Gobbled up forever,

Re-tweet your last gasps,

I’m what you call a wonder weapon,

A wandering apex predator, Dexter,

I love safe sex, I always bring protection,

Loving face kisses then I bring upon the reckoning.

From 8 Mile to the Green Mile,

Tonight is Date Night,

Upon the Jewel of the Nile,

Superman, take flight,

It’s a Dark Knight,

That’s right, Pitch Black,

We’re on a Star Trek towards a Star Wars,

Resistance is Futile,

The time is Twilight,

I have A History of violence,

I’ve got my Goal set in my sights,

My Event Horizon,

Cannibals in space,

An Animal Rat Race,

Mallrats in the Bat-cave,

Battleships on a rampage,

Misery hates a blank page,

A Mammoth heading for an Ice Age,

Frozen,

Indiana Jones on a bad day,

Godfather kissing me on the hand,

Jot in my Vampire Diary,

Jurassic Park theme park rides all day,

Are we there yet?

I will never be Grown-up,

I can’t stop laughing.

Out of Sight,

Out of Mind,

Good Will Hunting with words,

Well, I’m out of mine,

So you can’t see me, right?

 

 

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True Evil Holds a Pen


joker-laughs

I am flirting with fire; from normality I had cold-feet. I am a kerfuffle of trouble, there’s no saving me now as I have mushroom-clouds for thought bubbles. They lacerate my world believing they killed me, I’m letting slip my dogs of war until they know me as a reformed super villain. Challenge Completed, Planet Earth; I’m spinning out-of-control, no fault of my own, I couldn’t keep hold. I’m a libertine shoulder barging my way through the captive creators; I’m writing on black paper in the dark.

No brain freeze or frisson, picking up lightening-bolts and throwing them at the pages of rapture I capture. This is merely reverie I reveal and unravel, I time-travel back and thwart all my enemies plans for me. I am no poltroon, I pollute pages personally I made it personal because I am no longer a person. The rain trickles down and washes away all my plights from my face, I change my mind and change my face and I am giving the world hell again, true evil is holding a pen. My calm levels are unstable, upon this page I have too much sycophantic horsepower, I bucking-bronco my way out from this web of life.

bipolar_by_jaeia

In school, after Maths was English class where I jotted down my aftermath from the bullies pulley, I guess I’m pure vile and puerile, I’m not a Transformer I can transmogrify. Rambunctious to my soul’s battery core; setting my switch to self-destruction. A man can only receive so much failure in his life before superiority takes over his eyes focus. Insanity is a gift from the Gods; I wield and shield it against sanity.

This world sees what they want to see; I could have charming characteristics, suave and soigné, hats off to me, my undercurrent is currently a catastrophe. All passengers, we have a slight insurgence for turbulence and wizen, please, fasten your seatbelts and come join me within my plummet. Its drizzling green and yellow pills, I’m dancing in the pain, I jump in blood puddles and reappear in sky tunnels of bliss. This hurt in my head I play it over and over again, until a joker smirk arises on my face, I’m no longer insane, isn’t life splendiferous.

insane 12

Within my writing I cannot be a stentorian, so I must visual lies my memory video-taped life, transplant and transport all of my supercilious kisses of life, these pages are where my wishes go to find a place to die. This world should have boxed me in early, now I can create topsy-turvy from everything that profoundly promotes to hurt me. Here comes the valetudinarian again, turn away, don’t dare turn that page, it’s all of the same. I could be a beacon of silver-lining light, but the doctors beat my head in with a rock to keep me under it for eternity. I am a writer, this is what I do, keep bringing you words and I shall sit here and laugh at you.

This image was selected as a picture of the we...

This image was selected as a picture of the week on the Malay Wikipedia for the 44th week, 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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What Type of Writer?


"Writing", 22 November 2008

“Writing”, 22 November 2008 (Photo credit: ed_needs_a_bicycle)

For my Writing Friends

I stand now; I stand a man with no future as of yet, twiddled by his past and troubled by his condition but still I stand toe to toe – nose to nose with this epic-fail named my life. Yes it may have a detrimental state on my being but in life’s chess game I can hold all of its weight because they call me Alexander the Great Writer.

I am different writer from all of you, which inevitably makes me stand away from the pack, I’m a lone wolf, you hunt your prey, I am more of a devilish creature; I wait for my food to come to me. Decipher that how you will. But I have watched and seen so many of a’writer creep up to a literary agent with a piece of work or a manuscript, shaking with so much possibility for a publication or perhaps a good phrase. But —

“Excuse me; this is my manuscript, its call Dead on The Water. It’s a psych-thriller novel. Everyone who reads it says it is awesome. Could you give it a read, please?” The writer stammers as he shudders in his boots.

“Sure thing, it will be the first thing I will do right after I do this other thing I have to do.” The clips of the high-heels simmer away through the double doors of the agency.

And what a shock! Nothing comes to pass.

But I devised a plan. One that will be more treacherous and longwinded than your way, I will write a blog! Write everything I can, whenever I can. Gain views upon my work through the blog and social networks. And in time the RIGHT-EYES will stumble upon my words. – The idea doesn’t seem that great when I write it down like that, but if I do my own thing I should get to where I am going through gaining attention. Oh yeah, for all you wannabe writers. A blog can be used as a portfolio for your work, so anyone wanting to know what you write like before contacting you, can view it, so write your best pieces. It’s a lot like putting on your party-dress and attending a ball, you want to be the best piece of polished writing-skirt at that place, so you get lucky and go home for the best damn night of your life. I think I got carried away with that part, I’m back now.

Now my talent or skill; to me it resembles a ship on the ocean, it could be calm and controlled on the water but like the weather, within an instant it can turn harsh, deadly and challenging and then there’s days of waves of poetry; but you have to look out for them.

These words I give birth to can conquer all forever, whatever the weather whether I wither or whether I turn killer and send this world into global terror, I shall. Whether I use poetic stories or general stories to get my emotion pen across, I will, by any means necessary. I may be a female pin-up centrefold and my words may be censored gold, but the reality is my reality is something I can never truly hold, my job sucks and my bed is never cold, fact.

But I write everything and when I say everything, I write everything on my mind at the time I am thinking about writing. But in a way that is educational for other writers due to my ability to play with the words. Also in diary fashion so people just wanting to pop in and check out if other people are having bad days just like them. And then you have my dark side that gravitationally yanks people in to show my mental illness and how I write about it, along with the why strapped to it and the ferocious way I chuck words around that they could never even muster to think about using.

Take away this hurt, please. It feels as if my brains will flower-blossom from beneath my skull, splitting my life into death. I am crumpled on the floor taking this beating from myself because I must; squish my eyes shut so no tears are spilt.

These med-kits have no instant direct-hit on these chugging headaches.

You see I write everything I see. I could be watching TV and everything the characters on-screen are acting I am writing EVERYTHING that I see. –

Davis stretches through the doorway, gun handle strangled, index finger at the ready to twitch. His eyes mean business with his bad acting; but the bad guy is going down. The shadow of a silhouette passes the kitchen door; Davis barely caught it in his peripheral vision.

So on and so forth. Hey, you can always watch what I was writing.

But it is a great way to further your talent. Watch something and rhyme off quickly and efficiently, so when it comes to tackling you work, it’s not only a great piece of writing it’s also a piece of pi$$ to do it.

Stay shiny!

Keep those pens busy!

Alex – The great writer, it’s got a cool ring to it.

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My Evil Pen Told Me To Write This


Pen-is-Mightier-than-the-sword_4535599

Crumple up the skies and erase out the white clouds, a slight breeze will press against my skin, watch how it bubbles with the burn of righteousness. Stomp on their homes and the photo family portraits; keep their blissful memories beneath your feet, Alex.

I was born to cause havoc between the bars of these pages, does that make me a prison baby? Time to turn this pen around within my fingers, shoot for the stars in my eyes and jab because I have seen the horror of their entertainment they rub upon me. Alex, squish your dreams, blood tears will fathom under the fathoms forever, so you can shake that idea out of your pretty little head.

I am about to destroy whole civilizations with thunder and lightning with one of my brain storms; on my hands and knees I am repeatedly stabbing the ground with my pen and watching it seep ink. The pen is mightier than the sword, but its okay, I was born with two hands to carry both; Insert my evil guffaw laugh here!

joker-laughs

I have come along way from being a hobbledehoy but like every black caterpillar I transformed in a beautiful poisonous-psychotic-writer-fly. I am no longer aberrant because this is my bailiwick. I will bereave for my lost soul which rests in pieces, twitching with semi-life haunted by the decay of heebie-jeebies. My pens duty now is to immolate all that is wonderful and tranquil, where would this world be without a little anarchy?

You are no writer because you do not write for yourselves; you think of the small minded and only catch the small eyes, one day when I die, my legend will live on within my works, to slink out from the basket when the flute of darkness is played. Serpent? Yes I am.

If you would like to clash swords, I was forged in the fires of family and cuddled by the cold wind of the rough sleep of the street, pelted with pills by doctors as I sit naked in the corner holding on to dear life to the bad memories. So tell me, how would I not fit into fame? They will call me eccentric but we will hold on to the truth.

This is my quest, my journey to love hate. My curse, my job, my destiny and no one not even the almighty himself can prise me away from this. You may know words, but I see words in all, this is where the line is drawn and if you ever think to cross the line, I will take my pen from its holster and create a masterpiece that could inevitably murder your career.

I love wordplay; the play on words is my job title, I may not be entitled to make money from my writing but I know one day I will receive that knock upon my door. My eyes will darken and my soul will tweak with excitement, all alone staring at the sun, I will get closer to it than Icarus. Through any kind of darkness comes some sort of light. Bring forth my pen, Alex, it’s time to keep your pen busy.

stop-writingRemember this!

The Guardian also wrote an amazing article about creative writing, I suggest you take a look and get an insight if you are interested. http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/mar/14/creative-writing-courses-advice-students

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