MOAR English Coursework! (Persuasive Writing)

Sorry for not posting in a span... I just entered into Four and stuff, its been busy. Oh, and Debate! Not only that but my Additional Mathematics class received its Add. Math textbook... on The Ides Of March. In any case... here is some MOAR English Coursework. This time for Form Four!

VALENTINE'S DAY SHOULD BE BANNED. 

The bane of humanity’s romantic existence has not been sexual misconduct, but something far more sinister; and that, my friends and potential lovers, would be Valentine’s Day.  To put it lightly: Valentine’s Day really just sucks. Valentine’s Day is not a Shakespearean dream of lovely roses and sweet chocolate. It is rather, a hell composed by Milton himself; one of bleeding fingers from stinging thorns beneath rose petals, and bitter gluttony of fat accumulating beyond the biting of chocolate… And what makes this whole nightmare worse, is Valentine’s Day is wholly unnecessary. If couples’ really wanted to have themselves a special day, it could actually be at any time of the year and of their convenience.  This means that insufferable displays of romantic bravado could be shown to a private audience and not the whole world, and certainly not aid in affecting the market value of chocolate.

This dreadful day also demeans love. Perhaps it was wrong of me to ascribe the notion of Valentine’s Day as being thought of as a ‘Shakespearean dream,’ when ultimately the great poet himself would ridicule it.  To get an idea of how utterly useless this day is one should examine it through his eyes.  Nowhere, absolutely nowhere in his Sonnets is Shakespeare interested in Valentine’s Day.  Did Shakespeare ever write ‘Shall I compare thee to a Valentine’s day?’

The answer is No.

And this isn’t because the accursed day did not exist during the great chap’s time, but rather because he had a good sense of what art is and what love is.  Shakespeare chose to compare his love to a summer’s day, something so gorgeously uncomplicated, something so strikingly normal, because he knew he could ultimately find beauty in what is taken for granted. By making love a spectacle of grandeur we diminish it, because love is simple; be it the chemicals in your brain yearning for the opposite sex or the sheer strength of the Platonic,it’s still simple. Valentine’s Day goes against all of this because it attempts to force love onto some special day when on any fine day, be it summer, spring, winter and perhapsAutumn the joyful ode of love goes on unabated. And because Valentine’s Day goes against what love naturally is; it is therefore unnecessary and even prohibitive of love.

Valentine’s Day also makes a good proportion of the population rather miserable, which also seems quite contrary to its purpose. If we take the time to examine what Valentine’s Day does to these poor souls, it only furthers my case.

First, let us start with the obvious; and that would be Mr Lonely. Mr Lonely has no luck with girls whatsoever.  As sympathetic creatures do you think it’s fair that every year that we bombard Mr Lonely with images of red and pink hearts when he can’t get a girl? Think deeply, how do you think Mr Lonely feels when the whole world decides to tell him in merciless commercials and advertisements, in awkward questions from friends, and sad phone calls from his mother… that he is inadequate for any romantic partner?

Second, we have the Hopeless Romantic. This is the person for whom love is the most fundamental aspect of their whole lives. You would like to think that Valentine’s Day would be cause for them to celebrate. Think again, because what you instead have is the accumulated stress of an entire life’s worth of fundamental meaning in your life being slammed into your face.  Say you like Ferraris. I doubt you’d like it if one hit you at full speed one morning, and this is what Valentine’s Day is for the Hopeless Romantic. Their entire purpose for their very existence summed up in one day, and after that it just decays. So the rest of the year is either spent in agony, waiting for one to relive their existence, or they gain a sort of post-traumatic stress over having to watch their life flash before their very eyes.

Third, we have Mr Forgetful. It’s not that Mr Forgetful doesn’t love his wife. It’s just that he’s really forgetful. But do you honestly believe for one second that his wife, loaded up on by the media hype and sheer hysteria of Valentine’s Day is going to let Valentine’s Day go? Let’s put it this way: Mr Forgetful better hope he doesn’t forget his pen to sign his divorce papers on the fifteenth.

These are only a few of the people who Valentine’s Daymakes miserable. We can’t forget The Womanizer, Ms Shy, or countless others.  Though what makes Valentine’s Day particularly despicable is that everyone can either classify themselves as one of these people, or knows one of these people. Every year, someone suffers.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Valentine’s Day should be banned.

'SERVIETTES: On a rainy day'

'SERVIETTES: On a rainy day'
Title of 'II.' is edited as to avoid embarrassing myself.

I.

A little leaf, a little vein
A growing brief, a growing shame

II.

(Poem for a Reply)

I'm violently unhappy
Not with myself but With
human Ingenuity in the avoidance of any confrontation
which Might not make you
Happy instead SAD.
Perhaps in my world of
Human LOGIC, there would
be more happy, more
Happy and less Sad,LESS
SAD, MORE happy.
I no longer want smiles
I don't care.
He'd rather have truth.
Thank you very much.

III.

In an intricate system of
numbers and graphs humanity,
Rather the thoughtful ones
Have, enabled a search for
equations for the smallest
consituents of Existence, and
so in endless powers of
10 we find ourselves
Beyond.
Little joy, infinite to understand
And such endeavours continue
with increasingly sophisticated
methods. Sparks will soar
and rao and calculations will
grow on the boards of pale
And as we lose ourselves, so we find
us
Discovered.

IV.

There is chaos in his soul
And anarchy in his mind
Both will usurp his
unneccesary existence
And nothingess will
have a new member...
Nobody.

V.

Oh Hello, a smile.
I'm still not happy.

VI.

(Song For Darkened Day*)

Endless rolling puffs folding into
one another with sad little spaces
forming depressed faces, in the
high sky.





-Fin.

A Day.

(Word of advice. Do not mix first dates and The Beach Boys. It accentuates everything.)

This I wrote after.

Tawanda W.T Mulalu was a firm advocate for the gathering of information, and therefore decided that some time on Google really wouldn't hurt. So yes, quite literally Tawanda found himself on Wikihow looking at how to handle himself the next day. In his mind, Tawanda seriously thought that he could easily mess himself up and show himself as the nervous wreck he actually was, or thought he was. Apparently, self-deception plays an integral role in the social interactions of human beings in... Does it matter? Tomorrow was going to be strenuous and he needed someway to deal with it. And the joys of internet information gathering could easily do so. Even after the extended 'research' period Tawanda had spent the time conducting, Tawanda decided he need a back-up, a fail-safe in case he was hopelessly boring tomorrow. 

A piece of paper and a pen. Not only would it create a writing opportunity and some point, he could easily say: "Let's play noughts and crosses!" to save him from awkward silence. If that happened, he could at least hear the sweet scribbling of a pen: sweet. He listened to music as he slept, and enjoyed the darkness of the night.

*

Morning. The boy woke up with a urgent sense that something important was happening today. He opened his eyes and raised his abdomen from the soft cushioning of sleep, and struggled to wipe the dream off his face. This important event, what was happening? Why was it urgent? Debate again?

It was a late morning and it was warm and sunny. The rays of the sun travelled through the windows.

And then-

Oh yes, the boy thought.  That. 

He lifted himself up from the bed, with a mixture of dread and rush. The dread as a result of his usual anxious paranoia. The rush, the usual happy sensation felt when he was confronted with such situations. It was why he revelled in public speaking and even, oddly enough exam taking. Tawanda, occasionally actually enjoyed taking an exam.  Actually more than occasionally, he honestly found his Science and Maths exams…fun.

But this pre-exam feeling would not necessarily end with a pen and paper, and if it did, that would actually be really bad, considering how ludicrous the 'fail-safe' he concocted in his mind was. Either way, he took a bath and savagely scrubbed himself, he combed his hair, though not for the full hour the Fashionista suggested he so for, and he brushed his teeth more than once. He would be clean he decided. 

*

This I wrote as I pulled out a piece of paper at Milky Way and kept myself busy as I waited.

Astounding rushing and bustling of heat expansion; energy fuelled peoples revering in the thermos of consumerism. Tawanda W.T Mulalu sits still, rather uncomfortable as the only particle held frigidly motionless by the cold of nervousness and jitters. The smell of freshly cooked meant emanates into the confines of the ice-cream joint with its multi-coloured chairs. Red, purple, orange. Tawanda meanwhile felt purple, an interesting mellow colour that revealed much but little. He was writing. It was a perfect way to pass the time as he waited. What was the first thing he had to again? Yes, smile.

The great Fashionista in all her wisdom had told him to not

(1)    Cross his arms

(2)    Whistle

She had noted that these are two habits of his in uncomfortable situations. She also told him that if they went to Exclusive Books (Tawanda mentioned this because he absolutely knew that he wanted to end up at Exclusive Books but was a bit worried because he thought he might just get lost in the books and actually forget everything around him. Which would have been bad. Really bad. ) that he should offer to buy her one of those “cute” bookmark “thingies”  for her. Though, the Fashionista warned:

“When she says no, she means no brah.”

Tawanda decided to heed such advice. The way the Fashionista’s warning was outputted was serious. Therefore he would not take such advice lightly.

*

This, I also wrote after.

Poor Tawanda shook in surprised convulsion as he heard her voice from behind him. A surprise hello. She laughed, and he quickly turned to face her. What was the first thing he was supposed to again? Oh god, is this actually happening? She looked pretty, so he was pretty sure he smiled at some point, but oh what else? Dipstick, tell her she looks pretty. Oh yeah, that. He then told her. Though quickly, it wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to let linger. Ice-cream, he suggested.

And what followed, were extended conversations about vanilla vs. chocolate, music (Justin Bieber, One Direction, Kanye West, alternative rock, and 80/90s RnB and Hip Hop) , a few movies (500 Days of Summer), and at some point the show 'The Big Bang Theory' (in which Tawanda had attempted to explain a joke  he didn't even remember quite properly using the pen he brought and the receipt in which he drew the worst rending of y = tanx known to math. Also, its probably a good idea to not attempt to explain maths that she'll probably not need until two years later. To be fair, at least  he didn't get into Calculus). 

She had to leave, so Tawanda tried to see if Exclusive Books was still open. It wasn't. Musica was, so he decided to see what discount CDs he could get. He settled on 'The Very Best of The Beach Boys. In retrospect this was both a good and bad idea. 

Tawanda then saw Thapelo and Sedia chilling, he greeted them and Thapelo looked happy with The Beach Boys CD. 

*

Alright. Tawanda was now home listening to The Beach Boys. But then his little mind then mused something.

It was good,  and no one had to play noughts and crosses.

But, Tawanda W.T Mulalu, as the sky darkens and the day meets the night and you must fall asleep again...

What do you do now?

*

Well you know, I could certainly read. There's this wonderful college textbook called 'Understanding Poetry' that I'm skimming through right now... Wait a second... OR, I could totally do the normal thing and send a text like normal real people do. 

I know, I'm a genius.

You really can't go wrong once you learn a fact about yourself and the world around you.