nirinia: (Default)
I'm thinking of taking up French. It is completely silly to be half-versed in French, particularly when fluency isn't that far off: I'm familiar with the verb tenses, I just need to get re-acquaintanted. Then I'll have to cram my head full of words. It's within reach, why not? Even conversational French would be an asset. And, with at least tolerable French, Russian would, likely, be easier to piece together.
nirinia: (Default)
Preoccupied by London looming in the horizon of the week. Planning outfits, things to do, where to go, what to read, think, breathe. We leave on Saturday and return on Wedensday. I'm totally broke and should not be going at all, but fuck that. I cannot wait to stuff my face in Chinatown and Camden. And go shoe-hunting. Any fabulous suggestions are very welcome, I'm sort of at a loss about what to show two near-novice Londoners.

My Russian is so craptastic there aren't words. But I'm getting there, I hope. It has to have gotten somewhere by november 20th.

And, what do you know, I wrote something on the tube on the way home a week ago. The weather was perfect autumn, and I just couldn't help it, not even the bad T.S. Eliot allusion:

Autumn is summer’s glasses: the veil of heat removed, colours crisper, clearer, more alive. The wind returns and rustles leaves and people and hair. Puddles freeze and melt, every morning, evening, afternoon. I can breathe again, without gulping and swallowing air (no, it’s not asthma, the doctor assures me it is not. Cannot be, actually, not possibly. Not with values like that. Don’t worry, just breathe normally, you’ll be fine.).
nirinia: (Default)
Preoccupied by London looming in the horizon of the week. Planning outfits, things to do, where to go, what to read, think, breathe. We leave on Saturday and return on Wedensday. I'm totally broke and should not be going at all, but fuck that. I cannot wait to stuff my face in Chinatown and Camden. And go shoe-hunting. Any fabulous suggestions are very welcome, I'm sort of at a loss about what to show two near-novice Londoners.

My Russian is so craptastic there aren't words. But I'm getting there, I hope. It has to have gotten somewhere by november 20th.

And, what do you know, I wrote something on the tube on the way home a week ago. The weather was perfect autumn, and I just couldn't help it, not even the bad T.S. Eliot allusion:

Autumn is summer’s glasses: the veil of heat removed, colours crisper, clearer, more alive. The wind returns and rustles leaves and people and hair. Puddles freeze and melt, every morning, evening, afternoon. I can breathe again, without gulping and swallowing air (no, it’s not asthma, the doctor assures me it is not. Cannot be, actually, not possibly. Not with values like that. Don’t worry, just breathe normally, you’ll be fine.).
nirinia: (Default)
So preoccupied by Russian and cyrillic letters at the moment, that I woke up thinking about the equivalent of f and g. And I felt so guilty for not being at home, poring over letters and pronunciation particulars when I was shopping earlier. In my 15th year of school, I've finally been handed a challenge. And I'm over the moon! The blasted final letter in "blinu" isn't nearly as difficult as I thought, either. It's just an unrounded Norwegian /u/.

I'm desperate for a little black dress with an open back, so I can wear pearls backwards (the long loop down the back). Considering hounding the vintage stores around town, Kristine, d'you want to tag along? I need something inspiring.

And I'd like for people to get over the whole 'ooh, short-short shorts' thing. Most do not have legs for it, it is not particularly sexy, and it very rarely looks anything but miserable. Particularly when you wear hideous shoes with them. Blargh. They were all over the place today. And, gods, what is it with 'I wear bad vintage, blog in broken English and am a fashionista'?

And a new pair of sort-of-sturdy everyday boots. The old pairs are old.

Sorry this turned out so bitchy. I needed to get some snark out.
nirinia: (Default)
So preoccupied by Russian and cyrillic letters at the moment, that I woke up thinking about the equivalent of f and g. And I felt so guilty for not being at home, poring over letters and pronunciation particulars when I was shopping earlier. In my 15th year of school, I've finally been handed a challenge. And I'm over the moon! The blasted final letter in "blinu" isn't nearly as difficult as I thought, either. It's just an unrounded Norwegian /u/.

I'm desperate for a little black dress with an open back, so I can wear pearls backwards (the long loop down the back). Considering hounding the vintage stores around town, Kristine, d'you want to tag along? I need something inspiring.

And I'd like for people to get over the whole 'ooh, short-short shorts' thing. Most do not have legs for it, it is not particularly sexy, and it very rarely looks anything but miserable. Particularly when you wear hideous shoes with them. Blargh. They were all over the place today. And, gods, what is it with 'I wear bad vintage, blog in broken English and am a fashionista'?

And a new pair of sort-of-sturdy everyday boots. The old pairs are old.

Sorry this turned out so bitchy. I needed to get some snark out.
nirinia: (Default)
Russian has six cases, and I am going to learn them (if I get into the class in question, that is). Surely, I am mad? But I love the idea, and I miss English class. I think I'll have to write an essay or two occasionally, just to retain the skill.
nirinia: (Default)
Russian has six cases, and I am going to learn them (if I get into the class in question, that is). Surely, I am mad? But I love the idea, and I miss English class. I think I'll have to write an essay or two occasionally, just to retain the skill.
nirinia: (Default)
Yesterday, I finished English. I uttered my last English syllable to the applause of the sensor. It is weird.
The Exam. )

And what is this American obsession with Scandinavia in general and Norway in particular? Whenever they need some sort of deep, ambigous commentary in film or a series, they have the Norwegian stand in deliver the lines. Lynchie has mad Norwegians camping at his hotel, and some guy in "A Prairie Home Companion" sings about sardines, or something like that, in Norwegian. Serrrriously, wazzup with that?

PS. Oh, I had a revelation of the figurative kind during this morning's first breakfast: this fall, I'm going to take some sort of class on Russian. I want to read the mad Russians in all their glory. And mum would like to learn to read Russian again, too, while I'm at it. It'd be plain stupid of me not to exploit the fact that I have two people that speak semi-fluent Russian, and would be nothing short of delighted to help. It'd be a challenge too, goodness knows I could need a fun challenge, now that I'm done with English. Darlings, you just know you want to join me.

PPS. I saw the last episode of House MD, season two, a few days ago. Surprisingly few symptoms of withdrawal.

PPS. (This is getting ridiculous, isn't it?) I rather like the end of Hamlet. Shakespeare does have a certain dramatic streak I rather enjoy. (You can tell I rather like "rather", can't you, Darlings?)
nirinia: (Default)
Yesterday, I finished English. I uttered my last English syllable to the applause of the sensor. It is weird.
The Exam. )

And what is this American obsession with Scandinavia in general and Norway in particular? Whenever they need some sort of deep, ambigous commentary in film or a series, they have the Norwegian stand in deliver the lines. Lynchie has mad Norwegians camping at his hotel, and some guy in "A Prairie Home Companion" sings about sardines, or something like that, in Norwegian. Serrrriously, wazzup with that?

PS. Oh, I had a revelation of the figurative kind during this morning's first breakfast: this fall, I'm going to take some sort of class on Russian. I want to read the mad Russians in all their glory. And mum would like to learn to read Russian again, too, while I'm at it. It'd be plain stupid of me not to exploit the fact that I have two people that speak semi-fluent Russian, and would be nothing short of delighted to help. It'd be a challenge too, goodness knows I could need a fun challenge, now that I'm done with English. Darlings, you just know you want to join me.

PPS. I saw the last episode of House MD, season two, a few days ago. Surprisingly few symptoms of withdrawal.

PPS. (This is getting ridiculous, isn't it?) I rather like the end of Hamlet. Shakespeare does have a certain dramatic streak I rather enjoy. (You can tell I rather like "rather", can't you, Darlings?)

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