Three.

The first of which was with my friend D in Sydney. We were all at the beach, where a friend and I took a walk that lasted longer than expected. I had clumsily forgotten to bring my phone, so we lost track of time and because of that, D couldn’t swim. When the friend went to change, D started scolding me on how “inconsiderate, immature and irresponsible” (true, true and true) I was. And I knew I deserved that. He was frustrated as well, and this was his way of “improving” me. But he also made references to several out-of-bounds topics, which left me feeling so angry and betrayed I couldn’t speak. So uncontrollable tears came out instead. I have had trouble forgiving him after that, even though he has apologized repeatedly.
But here’s the thing. I’ve known him for about two years now, of which he has been nothing but the sweetest, steadiest friend (in his own annoying way). So even though part of me still bears a grudge (I know it’s temporary, but I can’t help it), I’ve decided to go to Sydney to stay a night. It was my fault too, what he said was unintentional, and I know he feels way more terrible than myself. And I figure a visit would put his mind at ease a little bit. It’s quite counter-intuitive for me to seek comfort from the person who caused the discomfort, and my first instinct is always to cut and run, but I imagine… it’s always more painful to be the one who did the hurting.

The second one was with a girl in my Creative Writing tute. She had written an “endless rant” on how mainland Chinese were “disgusting cockroaches that needed to be squashed”, how Singaporeans were so afraid of losing that their lives have become utterly materialistic, how she’s sometimes ashamed to be Chinese in Australia. And I know being offensive is part of writing, but I just took it way too personally and exploded at her. We got into quite a heated argument where I insisted that if writing was to be offensive it had to have a purpose, to question a perspective, to provoke thought, not just an excuse to indulge in racist diatribe. It ended quite badly, with the tutor saying something along the lines of “offensive is good, we like offensive”. But I apologized to her immediately after class anyway, and we are okay now.

The last one was with ZY, which I can honestly say, scared me the most. We are both quite stubborn people with strong opinions on certain subjects. So while our values and ideals mostly coincide, occasionally, inevitably, there will be a disagreement. My natural behavior would be to state my points, and if I feel the argument is going nowhere, to “agree to disagree”. ZY, on the other hand, is very passionate about seeking the truth, and she hates people who say “aiyah, I just can’t argue with you la”. The dumbest argument was in Sydney where I commented on how a restaurant with a generic name like “sushi train” doesn’t look very good. And she thought otherwise, which led to a three-block argument.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love that girl to bits and I hate arguing. And yet in my attempt to be braver and stand up for my ideals, I’ve become so bitchy and petty. I hate this person I seem to be turning into. And it’s not merely these three arguments. I have had arguments with just about everyone on everything. I don’t enjoy them, and at the end of the day all I’m left with is the knowledge that I had chosen my pride over my friends.

Tassie

So here are the photos from eons ago.


On a bus in Sydney.


Shan's idea, I swear.






Manly beach




At a German restaurant whose name I can't remember.


A cafe in Hobart.








the oldest bridge in the oldest town in Aus.




some crazy prisoner in Port Arthur




"I rather stay here than Fenner!" Shan declares.


haha!


A kookaburra (not sitting in an old gumtree)


A wombat! God, they are so adorable. I learnt that they have a really hard backside, so when you knock it it will sound... hollow.




A Koala. They look so dopey


A Tasmanian Devil. Much cuter than the cartoon.




A Kangaroo. My impression of them was that they were abit... nutty. Because a friend was telling me how a suicidal kangaroo jumped onto the road and caused his car to crash. But they were perfectly amiable.


And hungry.






The coastline at Bruny Island. It looks like a king riding a Ilama, doesn't it.


A blowhole. I think it was around this point of the journey that Shan got seasick.


Seals.




I wanted to smuggle one back, but as we got closer, the SMELL oh gosh. Like fish, but in a worse way.






















A classic car show of Morgans.












This guy travels around the world, making just enough by swallowing swords. I'm not sure if I'm envious or not.



I have more photos (1000, to be exact), but I think these are the less boring ones. Tasmania is really much lovelier in real life though.

Randomly, I had a dream a two nights ago, where I was Ophelia from Hamlet. She was in love with Hamlet (whom she thought didn't love her back), her dad died and she went mad. And then she died. How ominous.

there's rue for you; and here's some for me:

we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays:

O you must wear your rue with a difference...

This was the only part I remember vaguely thinking. And I didn't die in the dream, fortunately. I was just swinging flowers around and muttering furiously (like a mad, homeless woman?) Maybe I should go easy on the coffee for awhile.