Persuasion Example

(I am going to attempt to use hyperbole to enhance my claim, I am not this parsimonious.)

On the weekend of February 21st, I was instructed to throw a suprise birthday party for my step mother, of whom I am not entirely fond of. It was to be of an Irish theme - though I do not know why - so that was easy enough for me; my obsessive passions for all that is Irish would help me put on quite the party. It was a suprise for all, the entire works I pulled in made the whole place sparkle with greens and whites. The 5o balloons were traditional, the bar was stocked with draft Guinness and Murphy's irish stout, and the music was my own; my favourite Celtic bands with plenty of bodhran to keep the beat alive. At present time, the very last gift was my fathers, naturally I expected his to be the most glorious. I had no idea, however, the impact to which this gift would have on me. The present was a two week vaccation to Ireland, accomodations lying in Dublin and Cork. When my step mother asked, "Is Cork in Ireland?" I lost my sense of self control. I became livid, so angry that I felt it radiating off me in violent waves, I was absolutly sure that my brother beside me could feel my furious tremors. Ireland. My dream. I am the one the should be going to Ireland, not my oblivious step figure. My family knows of my fixations, they even tease me about it, "Don't you think that boy is cute Tori? Huh, bet you would if he relaxed his vowels and picked up a fiddle," "Hey, Tori, you'll fly right over it on your way to Europe, just wave." I write stories with Irish characters, I'm fascinated by the accents, I want so badly to experience village life under first name basis, relaxed and ever slow. I have planned trips, I have learned the Celtic flute, I fill my Ipod with traditional irish favourites because celtic folk rock can truly never be outdone, in my mind. So why does this simple minded woman get my trip? Just because her hair is red does not mean that she is "visiting her home land to aquiant herself with a previous life," that is utterly absurd! At least have some appreciation for the culture you are to experience, stay in a thatched cottage and smell the old timber, rather than exult in the fact that cheap beer and shopping are around the corner. I should be the one going to Ireland, for I appreciate the culture, it pains me day and night to accept the fact that my dream will have to wait, for another, perhaps never coming day. I suppose I should be happy that I will see pictures, but even then, will I forever look with scathing eyes at the vile woman who is taking my trip away from me. I should be the one going to Ireland.