Sustained Criticism

Coinciding with me buying a new pair of sitting shoes, it is timeto blog of shoes. I have refrained from doing so for some time. - You are all familiar with the term "sitting shoes", I trust, Darlings? Well, for the unenlightened, it is stunning pairs of high heels that are so high they can, quite simply, not be used for substantial walking. The angle of the instep is too steep, even for the most seasoned of us, to walk long distances. (Which is why, if they are part of some ingenius outfit, one brings another pair of walking shoes to slip into on the way to and fro.)

Teh shoes The light really does not do them justice, and the heel does not seem to be much of a challenge. I usually make a point of avoiding Bianco - bad soles, uncomfortable shoes and generally too mass-produced for my tastes -, but I could not let these pass me by, for that they were too wonderfully discounted. Not to say covetable. Mother, I know, covets them, too. They are a challenge to walk in, but nothing I can't handle with a pair of back-ups on-hand. Or the aid of Scholl's "Party Feet". Which, by the way, I readily recommend to any fans of heels.

And I think I wrote something about the blue pair of Irregular Choices I found in Oxford, earlier. So, without further ado, I present my current glass shoes (which is also a clickable link, to a picture of disputable quality, but that shows of the lovely perspex heel.)

I don't think I dare count my shoes anytime soon, there must be an awful number spread around the house.
On this note I think I will migrate downstairs for a spell, and do a slightly make-shift pedicure. I also do so want see-through boxes to display my shoes in, and I think I just might've enticed mother to invest in some for us.

It strikes me that, when used aptly, Norwegian can be an almost painfully beautiful language. Certain dialects in particular. (Kristine, you know which one I am refering to, I think.)

My schedual grows less tangible by the day, but I think I will be very happy with this latest edition. I will only have to get up early two days a week, and I have next to no classes - 17 hours a week, plus the occasional Wedensday. It also seems the school is arranging for a group of students to attend some lectures at UiO, and write a paper to be assed by the British Insitute. To make up for lost classes, I'm taking an exam in Psychology B. To keep myself entertained, I'm signing up for a Russian class.

My Norwegian/History teacher is wonderfully well-read, intelligent, engaging - all 'round wonderful, and a brilliant teacher. He even approved of my somewhat morbid topic for the "extended essay" (bad translation of the Norwegian "særemne"). Religion seems, this far, to be one of those subjects that are so ridiculously easy they just might prove difficult to get the hang of. Get a 6 in, that is, a 5 I can acquire without batting an eye.

We examined Hovland's book today, and although I haven't grown to like it more, I respect Hovland more. There were a few things I'd not seen - glaringly obvious ones, at that - that gain his case.

(For anyone wondering, the title translates as "in search of lost time" or, "in search of time lost". I personally prefer the latter for its ring. And credit goes to Proust.)

Aaand, I got to play dictator today. I was told I'm a natural, and really can't figure why.