Film Analysis : Iron Man

Ordinary World: Well the character that becomes Iron Man, is used to the world revolving around him, and is kind of in a shell created by his own ignorance. He doesn't seem to understand normal everyday struggles.
The Call: The call is when he is captured by terrorists, and he has to make/create weaponry for them, and when he realizes that he needs to change the way his company is run.
The Refusal:
Meet The Mentor: The doctor who saves his life in the beginning shows him a lot of things. Including, the fact that there is no reason to live through trials if there is no one or nothing to live for.
Crossing the Threshold:
Enemies, Tests, Allies: Enemies would be Obadiah, his business partner, the terrorists. Tests were like him trying to make the suit better, or making the "missiles" for the terrorists, or finding the flaw with the ice. One of his main allies was his secretary, then there was the doctor guy, the military guy.
The Approach: One of his set-backs was hurting his secretaries feelings, then discovering flaws in his suit.
The Ordeal: When he is first gets attacked in the beginning, then when he and Obadiah are battling, and you think he is about to die, because Obadiah has a suit too.
The Reward: He gets his secretary, and the label "iron man".
The Road Back: He has to have a press conference, to dodge some rumors.
Resurrection:
Return with Elixir He learns the value of integrity, and being a good person, appreciates the people around him, and values lives he doesn't know.

My gift

World peace, ending world hunger, boosting the economy, curing cancer, housing the homeless, making everyone skinny, everyone beautiful. As a sixteen year old girl, what can I do? Or, more like, what can I give? I can barely hold a 3.5 grade point average, I can’t manage my anger towards my brother, I make macaroni and cheese on my dinner nights, my college of choice is “wherever I get accepted”, my career of choice is “undecided”, and my ACT score is a low twenty-one. So what is it that I can do, what can I give, that someone would want? We would all like to change the world, from “paying it forward”, to becoming President of the United States. And yet the unsatisfactory thought of, failure to change the world in a huge way, creeps into our minds, and keeps us down. The fact is that we can! Just because we don’t have headlines in the newspaper dedicated to us, or we can’t see the immediate effect we have had on the world around us, doesn’t mean that we haven’t accomplished something potentially life-altering. After pondering this for days I have decided who I extend my gift to. I give it to all those who will listen, or rather, to all those who need someone to listen, I give them my attention. I give them my care, and I give them my friendship.
The heartache hurts, I know; the post-crying headaches, I am all too familiar with. I just need someone there with me, someone to hold me and let me cry without saying anything. And isn’t that the gift that of all people, I should be the one to give? Be a sanctuary not tangible to the human body, but to the human mind, for those who need me the most.
We all have that feeling of being alone, in our own despair. The feeling that no one, no matter what, can comprehend what we are going through. Subconsciously, we know we are wrong, and yet, we would rather be alone. Why would we want to suffer alone when we have those friends that are there for us? Is that not what friends are for? Often people just need to know that someone cares, and that they aren’t alone.
Recently a friend and I were driving around and he seemed sad. So I started to open up to him, tell him how I was feeling. When I was finished, I asked him if he was okay. A flood of unwelcome emotion washed over his face as he proceeded to tell me what has been going perfectly wrong in his life. It was sad, and for most of what he told me there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say to make it better. All I could do was tell him how sorry I was, and that things weren’t his fault. I felt so helpless, but then he thanked me. He thanked me for listening, and being there for him. That is when I decided that there may not be solutions to every problem in the world, but if all I contribute is my attention, and care, for those that I directly affect, for those who need me.
I know what you are thinking, and you are right. There is no logical way for me to befriend and listen to every single person who is in need of one. So how am I supposed to give my gift? Every person has a circle of influence, those people surrounding them that they affect the most. I can not be love and genuinely care about every single person I come to know, that is one of my downfalls, but maybe this gift that I give to others will in turn help me see in others what they don’t portray themselves.
Across the globe, my name will stay unknown, across the nation, I will stay un-heard of, and across the state my name will stay undiscovered. But the small effect that I will have on those who matter most to me will overpower it all. My gift I give to all those in my reach, and I give my hope and my faith in healing to all those I can’t.

My Gift, My Sanctuary

(I am not done with it! there will be more)

World peace, ending world hunger, boosting the economy, curing cancer, housing the homeless, making everyone skinny, everyone beautiful. As a sixteen year old girl, what can I do? Or, more like, what can I give? I can barely hold a 3.5 grade point average, I can’t manage my anger towards my brother, I make macaroni and cheese on my dinner nights, my college of choice is “wherever I get accepted”, my career of choice is “undecided”, and my ACT score is a low twenty-one. So what is it that I can do, what can I give, that someone would want? We would all like to change the world, from “paying it forward”, to becoming President of the United States. And yet the unsatisfactory thought of, failure to change the world in a huge way, creeps into our minds, and keeps us down. The fact is that we can! Just because we don’t have headlines in the newspaper dedicated to us, or we can’t see the immediate effect we have had on the world around us, doesn’t mean that we haven’t accomplished something potentially life-altering. After pondering this for days I have decided who to receive my gift. All those who will listen, or rather, to all those who need someone to listen, I give them my attention. I give them my care, and I give them my friendship.
The heartache hurts, I know; the post-crying headaches, I am all too familiar with. I just need someone there with me, someone to hold me and let me cry without saying anything. And isn’t that the gift that of all people, I should be the one to give? Be a sanctuary not tangible to the human body, but to the human mind, for those who need me the most.
We all have that feeling of being alone, in our own despair. The feeling that no one, no matter what, can comprehend what we are going through. Subconsciously, we know we are wrong, and yet, we would rather be alone. Why would we want to suffer alone when we have those friends that are there for us? Is that not what friends are for? Receiving a call in the middle of the night, from a friend that is disoriented and in need of comfort, who wouldn’t try to help them? Often they just need to know that someone cares, that they aren’t alone.

Forgotten Love

Could you give my heart,

Back?

Everytime i am around

you i feel its presents.

I miss it,

So i try to be

around you often.

but since thats

not working out.

I want it back.

My Life (Fight)

FIGHT if you ever want to achieve,

FIGHT for those who can't,

or for those who wont,

FIGHT if you ever have witnessed a crime.

FIGHT.

FIGHT if you have been funny or liked,

at someone else' expense.

FIGHT if you dont want to fight over "there",

FIGHT for the weak,

and the illprepared,

FIGHT.

FIGHT if you've ever been broken hearted,

slammed down on the ground,

and you darted.

FIGHT.

FIGHT for the cowards,

for the lovers, unloved,

FIGHT if you've ever told

a young one,

everything will be okay,

FIGHT if it wasn't.

FIGHT.

i rEmEMbeR...

i remember the warm

brick

ground in my backyard,

the summer mornings when the

sun would heat them, and

i would go out and soak in the

sun.

i remember yellow walls.

i remember jeremy my first

boyfriend.

i remember mud fights in

a stream with jocelyn,

the mud

dried and we washed off.

i remember the tingly

feeling i felt every-

time _____ held my hand.

i remember when _ _ _ _ _

held my hand i

felt

nothing.

i remember being dissapointed.

Journal Entry

The Woman in Black (prompt #13)

"COME BACK!"

She screamed to the waters, over and over again. Wiping a tear from her cheek, "COME BACK!" The black dress represents the death and mourning. The death and mourning of a dear friend. She thought to herself how she could quite possibly lose everything she had. Her job, her Other friends, the respect of her family and everyone around her, and possibly her freedom. her failed attempt to calm herself down by inhaling and exhaling, turned into hyperventilation. After all she has been through in the recent months, the loss of her friend would be the one to send her over the edge.
"COME BACK!"
"IT'S not going to come back Melanie, you know that. IT'S gone forever." a subtle yet condescending Voice sounded.
The look on her face changed from surprise to confused. What was The Voice talking about? What is IT? Surely The Voice is not referring to my dear friend. She searched for where the voice originated, but found nothing, but herself spinning around in circles finding hopeless nothings.
"IT?" she questioned aloud.
"There is no friend, Melanie, you KNOW what IT is. Do not be naive."
The Voice slowly faded out, and resided in her as a feeling of bewilderment. She knew what the voice meant, she did not want to except it, but the mere fact that she even heard the voice proved it true. No... Had she really lost her mind instead of a dear friend? Could she be wearing this black dress to mourn the loss of her sanity? Damn.
"COME BACK SANITY!"

Farrah

Matthew: I'm kind of... new at this.

Farrah: I can tell.

Matthew: You can?

-silence-

Farrah: Well usually the meeting place isn't a public coffee shop. You wont make eye contact, and you are sweating profusely.

Matthew: Oh.

Farrah: Matth...

(cut off)Matthew: It's Matt, you can call me Matt.

Farrah: Ok, Matt, What are you so scared of? It's just one night, not even the entire night, because i am not sure if you could afford that.

Matthew: Yes, but i could lose everything, i have a wife and kids at home.

Farrah: That is not my business, i just do what i am paid for. (taking off her jacket and placing it in her lap)

Matthew: Yeah...

Farrah: I don't know you, or your situation. But, you are being charged already for my time, s(cut off)Matthew: I know, I know. My car is parked right outside.

(Farrah stands up, bends over and gets close to Matthews face and whispers)

Farrah: Let's go then...

The Musky Room

The walls of this small room had seen many faces, coming, and going in a sense. Never by their choice. HE just wanted HER to be happy. HE could not have any sympathy or mercy for those that hurt HER. HE knew that SHE would never do anything about it herself. So to show how much HE cared for HER, HE started bringing this list of "offenders" to this room. Dark, musky, and the smell of rust, possibly urine, and something rotting. The dirt colored wallpaper that aged and peeled down the walls in some places, gave the room an eerie personality. A steel cold chair sits in the middle of the room waiting patiently for the next victim. One light hanging tenuously from the ceiling. No windows in the room, a camera in the top corner of one of the walls silently peeking at the occurrences. The door help multiple sets of locks and bolts. HE would ask them a few questions, usually why they did what they did to HER, but it would always end the same, a slow and painful withdrawal from this world.

Curious Eyes, Painful Questions

The little girl stared into her Mothers eyes. Innocently curious, and yet still had the patience for her mother to attempt to gather the correct words.

"Mommy? Where is daddy?" she asked again, this time with a hint of worry.

A moment of silence took place as the mother tried her best to find the best way to explain it. Nothing came to mind, either too sad, or avoiding the question completely.

"Honey, Daddy" She began tenderly, " Daddy can't be with us anymore." Without the young girl having to say another word, she knew that answer wouldn't suffice. How do you tell a little girl the age of 7 that her daddy had died in a terrorist attack a few days prior. They never found any trace of him, the last they had seen of him was the silhouette as he waved out his car window to them in the early morning, before going to work.

"Is it because of the accident at daddy's work?"

"Yes," sighing the mother tried to explain again, " he was in the building when the airplane hit it, and so God took him up to live with him. He Loved," she thought for a moment, "LOVES you very much. He didn't want to leave you."

Intro

When I was a wee little lass I hated both reading and writing. I wasn't the best reader and I struggled with bigger words. I don't know exactly when, but I read a book that I really enjoyed and thus, I was hooked on books. I don't recall when I started to write, but it was within my Jr. high career.


WRITING! writing is by far better than reading. I am a loyal journal writer, I not only just write in my journal everyday, but I write all my thoughts, what's going on in my life, and what's even better I vent all the things i am currently pissed off about. It is basically my emotional outlet.


I like to write poems, I have a notebook full of them. But, I have also fallen in love with short stories, or sometimes even research papers of my choice(but I do not write them in my spare time). I have taken Honors English ever since 9th grade, and am still in that adventure. Throughout all these classes my favorite assignments are the ones that i get to pick and I am allowed to throw myself into. In English classes, depending on the teacher, there is rarely an opportunity to write about something you are truly passionate about!

I DO! I want to be a writer... whether I am a published author or whether I just write for myself, I know that in one way or another I will continue to write until the day that I am physically incapable! If it weren't for writing I most likely would be in an institution with padded walls around me, or just insane and running around free!!! So if I write a book and it magically gets published during my lifetime that would be FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC, but if not I am perfectly fine with that.