Mud, Sweat and Beers: Glastonbury Festival 2011.

Everybody seemed to think it was hilarious that I had decided to brave the outdoors for three whole nights and go to Glastonbury this year.
Needless to say I was a little offended.
So imagine my smugness when I managed to do it - No broken bones, no drunken falls and no breaching of security by trying to hurl myself on to the Pyramid Stage to show Beyonce how it's really done. That doesn't mean it wasn't an eventful stay however.


After three and a half hours of fields, Stonehenge (massive disappointment by the way) and chatting to Scott Mills on Radio 1, we arrive. At possibly the furthest car park away from the site. But we're there.
We are assured countless times that our friend and her trusty boyf will be on hand to meet us at the car, and assist us in carrying our bags (which contained everything from temporary lip tattoos to dry shampoo - all the essentials obviously) to our camp site. After what felt like a few hours, we crack open the Pimms and sit on my car bonnet, watching the man and his two daughters dance around their car to our left in absolute horror (they were all clutching a Carlsberg and his children looked like they were about nine years old).
Eventually a figure appears in the distance, and we gulp our Pimms nervously. Where was the boyfriend? There was no way on earth we'd be able to carry all this crap without his help. So the three of us make our way, slowly, and not even surely, to the gate. After about an HOUR we find our spot. Tired, weak and rather muddy, we throw our things on the ground and it dawns on us that tents don't put themselves up. So we make friends with the people next to us and voila, our tent is up and we did nothing but giggle and stand around looking awkward.

The next few days was a blur. A muddy, noisy blur that went by far too quickly. Although I can't say I'll miss the portaloos (retch). Everything from becoming very well acquainted with your best friend in your car when needing the toilet, smoking with two lovely Liverpudlians who we lost in the maze that was Shangri La and sitting on a drunk but friendly stranger's shoulders in the crowd watching Tinie Tempah. Oh and a potentially broken ankle. After making our way to the front of the crowd for Beyonce on the last night, the friend only went and got stood on and barely made it back to the tent. Four hours, an X-Ray and a variety of new friends later we made it back to the car from the Medical Tent (I'll never forget some of the sights we witnessed in there - a man came in handcuffed and strapped to a bed, an entire cubicle was devoted to random people who had passed out and been found and literally peeled from the pavement, and I was told off for taking pictures of my friend and her fat ankle). So with no sleep, sore feet and a limping best friend we got back to the car and started the journey home. Listening to Beyonce's album the whole way back of course.

she's all mouth..!

I don't know about you but I'm getting a little bored of lipstick. And come to think of it, lip gloss and lip balm as well.
If you're fed up of unzipping your Body Shop make up bag and staring glumly at your Rimmel lipstick, here's something new for you to try. (Just avoid wearing them to lectures/job interviews/places where there are young children or the elderly as you might scare them).



Allow me to introduce you to Violent Lips, a dramatic twist on make-up that I'm sure I'll see on the likes of Ke$ha, Lady GaGa and Nicki Minaj very soon.

Violent Lips are temporary tattoos and they come in all different designs and colours. But here's the thing. Whilst some people will see these online and immediately start tweeting to all their followers about them, there are others that are just going to think there is some kind of highly-contagious mouth-related disease taking over the world. Personally, I love them and am trying to find out if they'll be coming to the UK anytime soon. Here are some of my faves:


'The Silver Glitteratti' - Coming Soon to the website.
Also available in Gold, Pink and Red.









'The Pink Leopard'










'The Pink Polka'
I LOVE THIS.










Each Lip Package contains 3 temporary lip tattoo applications. For a limited time Violent Lips are offering free shipping in the US and free shipping internationally with the purchase of three or more products (this won't be an issue for me).
Use promotional code VLMDS at the checkout to receive a 20% discount off your order.

www.violentlips.com

Happy Shopping! Mwah x

Iron Man vs. Edward Cullen

Given that my first exam is oh, I don't know, five days away? I figured instead of getting on with some much needed revision I would watch Iron Man, make countless cups of tea and try to figure out who I would like to marry more out of Robert Downey Junior in Iron Man or Robert Pattinson in Twilight. Here is what I've come up with, I can only pray I'll be this attentive when I start my revision. Tomorrow. Yes.

R-Pattz is SPARKLY when the sun is out. Like he actually glitters. I'm a sucker for pretty things.
He also has a tendency to kill people that try to hurt the love of his life. Given that in the wonderful place that is my imagination, that would be me, I'm pretty pleased with that. Its not every day your boyfriend proves his undying love for you by chasing a crazy ginger haired woman up a tree.
The whole bad boy thing is pretty hot. The surliness, the mysterious eyes, the way he looks when Jacob gets all up in his face. Phwoar.
The whole living forever part is alright too.
He has a nice car.
Bella is brunette and annoyingly whiney. I too have brown hair, and lets say I've had my whingey moments. He obviously likes that kind of thing.

HOWEVER.
Tony Stark is smart AND hot. In real life, he would probably have a much bigger nose and much smaller biceps.
He is a bit of a playaa but he never acts like that with Pepper Potts, which is really cute even if she does have a stupid name.
He has a suit that flies, talks to him, and shoots all the bad guys.
When I fail my exams next week, he will be clever and rich enough to look after me.
He has pretty cool parties at his house, unlike Edward Cullen who's vampire brother tries to eat his girlfriend when she gets a teeny tiny papercut.

I can't make this decision now, its too difficult.

For S.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye.

rabbit foood.

The diet is going well. So far, I've invested in about four tins of Slimfast powders, and they are sitting proudly above my washing machine. The chocolate one is actually quite nice, the strawberry - not so much. Apart from trying to measure exactly 250ml of skimmed-milk in an old plastic jug I found looking rather lonely at the back of one of our cupboards, and getting a little overexcited with a fork when trying to stir the mixture, it hasn't been too stressful. (Most of said mixture ended up on the floor/walls/my face).
Its quite a balanced relationship. All I have to commit to is drinking two of these delightful milkshakes a day, along with a six hundred calorie meal in the evenings. Yesterday I was naughty and had two caramel eggs (each at 195 calories) instead of a proper dinner but what you gonna do? This is a small side-effect of dieting I have noticed, and Glamour magazine recently discussed online. Dieting makes you erm, irritable at times. You get stressed out when your brother leaves a used plate by the sink. You feel like hurling something heavy at the person sat behind you in one of your seminars who chews on a cola cube like his life depends on it. And breathe. Just thinking about it is making me want some Pringles. I swear drinking these shakes can't be good for me. They don't taste like paper or make me want to dive into a bath of chocolate.
But there you go. Almost two weeks in and still going. I think I may have lost a little weight, either that or my lack of vitamins has altered my brain and I'm actually starting to hallucinate. (This is likely, I nearly screamed last night when I thought there was a spider sat quite comfortably on my shoulder; turns out it was a few strands of my hair).

I'm sorry. No one looks this happy about eating rabbit food. NO ONE.







When was the last time you went for a run along the beach with a big fat smile on your face? This is not what I look like at the gym.

one for one

"It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we're talking about when we talk about love"
- Raymond Carver

10 reasons to go to the gym.

1) Where else can you stroll into wearing your sweats, your boyfriend's t-shirt and very minimal make-up? (Ok no make-up but who has to know?) You can quite literally roll out of bed, puffy-eyed with hair somewhat resembling Bellatrix Lestrange's from Harry Potter, and no one will judge you.

2) You can time your arrival with the aqua-aerobics class going on in the pool and have a little giggle to yourself on your way in. A little legal high to make you feel better about the intense pain you're about to endure.

3) Britney Spears and Enrique Iglesias can sing their hearts out on your iPod and no one will laugh at you. Unless you forget that just because you can't hear yourself singing doesn't mean everyone else becomes deaf to your 'musical skills'. Not until after you've finished anyway.

4) That hot guy you've told your friends about? Yeah, they don't have to know he's in his sixties and smells a bit like cabbage. Let them think hottie actually exists! What they don't know can't hurt them.

5) The mats are pretty comfortable, in a weird kind of way. Draw eyes on your eyelids and no one will ever know you're asleep.

6) Oh haiiii muscles! Well, fat that's not quite as bad as it was before. Sort of.

7) Those Skechers you 'invested' in years ago? Well at least they've seen daylight now. Just remember to match your socks, people stare you know.

8) You get to spend loads of money in Pineapple, because hey you're going to wear it AND you look like a professional dancer. If only Louie Spence could see you now. You'd land a part in Pineapple Dance Studios in two minutes. It's got to be the hair band you threw at the sales assistant at the last second.

9) Burning enough calories means the deluxe chocolate cake and/or Ben & Jerry's you consumed last night NEVER HAPPENED.

10) Don't feel bad that you get a stitch after about four or five minutes walking on flat ground. The guy next to you who seems to run uphill at about 80mph is actually running on batteries, like that stupid rabbit you see in the Duracell adverts.

you should know.

When the routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And the resentment rides high
But emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways
Taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again

Why is the bedroom so cold
Turned away on your side?
Is my timing that flawed
Our feelings run dry?
Yet there's still this appeal
That we've kept through our lives
Love, love will tear us apart again

Do you cry out in your sleep
All my failings exposed
Get a taste in my mouth
As desperation takes hold
Is it something so good
Just can't function no more?
When love, love will tear us apart again

[Joy Division]

i'm still alive.

something that makes it all go away.

crystal[ized]

Yesterday I stumbled across some pictures in the January 2010 issue of Elle magazine, and I thought I'd share them with you.

The woman being photographed is Crystal Renn, who is an American model. Her modeling career started at an early age, yet she found herself engaged in a battle with her weight that almost cost her her life. Despite being praised by her agency on her new and tiny frame, she decided to take back control of her life. After gaining weight and becoming comfortable with her figure, she returned to modeling; happier and healthier.

I love the shots so much I've used one to illustrate my blog, seeing as it fitted perfectly with the title, 'farasha', meaning 'butterfly' in arabic.

'Ring in the New Year with High Glamour Frills, Feathers, Sequins and Dazzling Diamonds'

Elle, January 2010 Canada

Photos: Leda & St. Jacques

(Images from www.fashionising.com)

highlight hell.

Considering until very recently I've been a 'highlight virgin', I was pretty excited when I bounded into my hairdressers ready for my transformation. As I sat there with my eyes squinting and my nose scrunched up, I realised I was probably concentrating more on a few strands of hair than I had recently done in my exams.

After I picked a nice honey shade of brown, I sat there sipping my tea and being my normal, inquisitive self. Or just nosey, whatever you would prefer to call it. We all do it, sneaky glances in our mirror at the person sitting behind us until they look up and catch you staring at their hair (for the love of God WHY would you have it cut like that?) Sometimes we get caught out when they meet our eyes, and in a panic we end up spilling our tea or coffee down our aprons. Clearly I speak from experience, and found myself sat there waiting for my stylist to come back, feeling like a child covered in acrylic paint.

After my hair had been finished, I went to pay and realised I had no money in my account. Could this day really get any worse? So after a phone call to my mother who managed to pay for it, I left, thinking my new hair would last at least a couple of months. Apparently not.

Now I sit here with blonde-verging-on-yellow streaks in my hair, making me look like I've aged about thirty years. Having spent a while debating with myself whether or not to bleach my entire head of hair and try life as a blonde or just dye it back to my natural colour, I've finally admitted to myself my hair will never be the same as Shakira's, nor will it effortlessly cascade over my shoulders like Vanessa Hudgens. I'll just have to learn to love how in the morning it seems to have a mind of its own, and how after being caught in the rain I start to resemble some kind of mushroom.

imperfect perfection.

Yes, I convinced myself that I could remember her exactly, but when I was honest with myself, I knew I was losing the specifics. Or maybe, I realized, I'd never noticed them at all. In the photo, for instance, I realized that Savannah had a small mole beneath her left eye, something I'd somehow overlooked. Or that, on close inspection, her smile was slightly crooked. These were imperfections that somehow made her perfect in my eyes, but I hated the fact that I had to use the picture to learn about them.

N. Sparks.

Job Application.

The phenomenon that is social networking has taken the student population by storm.

First it was Myspace.

This website was a breeding ground for people to take pictures of themselves in the mirror, normally wearing their underwear and looking as though they have fallen face first into their make-up drawer. Natural beauty is at this point, rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Myspace soon became a hotspot for bored and lonely men around the world, who suddenly think its alright for them to message you saying things like “Hey hows it going beautiful? Your profile caught my eye and thought I’d see if you minded a chat?!” Yes I do mind, you strange and desperate little man.

Once the Myspace hype started to die down, social networkers became restless. Frantic, they scoured the internet and came across Facebook. Facebook may have appeared significantly plainer, without its fancy optional backgrounds and little orange man screaming “online now!” practically begging people to comment their walls and photos. However, like a contagious disease, the Facebook infection began to spread.

It seems normal for profile pictures to be changed every couple of hours, and statuses to be updated every time something happens to you, whether you passed your exams or just saw a bee fly into your window. Whatever it is, the social networker will be dragged like a magnet to their laptop or computer, feeling compelled to tell all 598 Facebook friends about their new socks or something equally thrilling. I’ve learned that some like to include song lyrics when they are feeling a little emotional, and some even go as far to recite us passages from the Bible. Who'd have thought it, Facebook is actually educational.

People take everything on Facebook so literally, especially when it comes to relationships. Cue shocked expressions and gasps from a bunch of girls upon hearing two of their mutual friends are now dating. “But is it Facebook official?!” one blurts out without any way of stopping herself whatsoever. And the reply? A very serious nod of the head. Woah, you don’t question a relationship when it’s on Facebook for everyone to see. And what happened to the good old days where guys would ask a girl for her phone number? Or when a girl would send her high school crush a note in Chemistry telling him she fancies him? Nowadays its “Hey, you’re hot. You got Facebook?” Nice.

Even Facebook has become a little too dull for some, and forcing them to convert to the religion of Twitter. For research purposes only (honest) I too joined the said site, uploaded a profile picture, and clicked “follow” on about four different Robert Pattinson profiles. Other than that I don’t fully understand the concept of Twitter, and I don’t see myself “tweeting” much in future. Although whilst trying to interpret the various tweets and re-tweets I came across Katy Perry’s profile, and I’m pretty certain she and Russell Brand talk more on that website than they do in real life.

shopping bag.

Bikini Top- Accessorize, £15.00

Bikini Bottoms - Accessorize, £15.00

Necklace - Accessorize, £12.00

Nail Varnish - Barry M, £2.50 each.

camels and vampires.

Given that I am being dragged kicking and screaming halfway around the world in a week's time, I think its only fair that I be paid some form of compensation. Ok so not quite dragged, and I probably won't scream at or kick anyone. However, I am going away for a grand total of four weeks; thus being torn away from all that is familiar to me, and thrown into the world of camels and magic carpets.

I'm going to stop exaggerating now.

My father has somewhat foolishly allowed me to "borrow" his credit card, in order for me to buy the necessities I so desperately need in order to travel. So far I have purchased a pair of daisy dukes, and two play suits from ASOS. I know he will despise all three.

This doesn't bother me, since my Scottish genes mean that being in anything above 30degrees Celsius will undoubtedly lead me to melting on the spot, and I must dress accordingly to avoid such a catastrophe. Although given the amount of whining and complaining that I plan to do upon arrival, this will probably prove to be a blessing in disguise to my father and brother.

Despite worrying about encountering various traders on the streets in the Middle East calling out "Three camel for your daughter" and braving the Med and all its wonders (ie sharks and jellyfish) I'm actually looking forward to a bit of colour on my skin that's not pure white and similar to that of Edward Cullen. Although if that meant becoming one of the Cullen clan, that doesn't sound so bad. Stupid Bella Swan.

paws for thought.

Do they ever change their spots?

I hope so.

obsessions.

Sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette.

Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed

Silk sheet, blue dawn, Colgate, tongue warm

Won't you quit your crying? I can't sleep

One minute I'm a little sweetheart

And next minute you are an absolute creep

We've got

obsessions

I want to wipe out all the sad ideas

that come to me when I am holding you

We've got obsessions

All you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you

Supermarket, what packet of crackers to pick?

They're all the same, one brand, one name, but really they're not

Look, look, just choose something quick

People are staring, time to quit thinking

Skin is on fire; just choose something, something, something

Pressure overwhelming

Next minute I am turning out of the door, facing one week without food

A day, a day when things are pretty bad

Don't let it make you feel sad,

the crackers were probably bad luck anyway

Can't let your cold heart be free

When you act like you've got an OCD

We've got

obsessions

I want to erase every nasty thought

that bugs me every day of every week

We've got obsessions

You never told me what it was

that made you strong and what it was that made you weak.

We've got

obsessions

I want to erase every nasty thought

that bugs me every day of every week.

We've got obsessions

You never told me what it was

that made you strong and what it was that made you weak

Sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette

Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable again.

these lyrics make so much sense, but make no sense at all.

Obsessions -Marina & The Diamonds

diamonds are a girl's best friend.

So yesterday was the long-awaited Marina & The Diamonds gig at the Bloomsbury Ballroom, London. Oh. My. God. I actually love her.
The day began with a Modern American Lit exam. But I'd rather not talk about how that went so we'll move on. Got the train at 4.02pm. Had to run and make everyone wait, but got it nonetheless.
Sat on the train, I was trying to reply to Facebook threads on my phone (with great difficulty, as I haven't entered the world of the Blackberry or iPhone yet) so I'm sure my eyes were squinting and my tongue was poking out of my mouth due to my intense concentration. If only I'd been that attentive in my exam. A man in a very expensive-looking suit gets on, sits himself down, and pulls out said iPhone. Looking at him jealously, I got distracted by his bow tie. Panicking, I remembered the name of the Marina venue, and suddenly wondered if I should be wearing some kind of ball gown. Shit.
Obviously, I wasn't but it got me thinking for a second. Stupid iPhone owner.
Anyway after reaching Victoria and pestering various policemen for directions and tripping up numerous escalators, I finally made it to Charing Cross to meet A, my fellow Marina lover. After some more trekking, we stumbled across our venue. I say stumbled for two reasons. Firstly, because London drivers have no mercy for pedestrians, and crossing the damn road was apparently too much to ask. Secondly, because we had grabbed some food and had no idea where we were, when we noticed a queue of teens outside a very big building, guarded by some bouncers. Sat in the queue, we decided we'd regress to a few years back, and graffiti ourselves with eyeliner and lipstick. As you do. After more waiting and having Jagermeister reps throw orange garlands of flowers over us, we finally made it inside. Upon entering, we were accosted by a bloke trying to sell the gig merchandise. I should probably tell you that I am very easily swayed, and this is not my best trait. Infact its quite annoying, even to me. My eyes must have doubled in size at this point, because he tried everything in his power to take my money off me, even resorting to "this is the last one" when I questioned him about some £10 lip paint (it was UV!!) even though we were one of the first to get inside. Silly man. Although I did buy a t-shirt because I am just that cool. I'm glad I didn't wear it during the gig, because its fashionable, high round- neck would A) have probably killed me in the heat and B) looked ridiculous as another girl decided to tear most of hers apart, leaving little to the imagination.
Back to the actual gig. Marina was supported by Spark, a newcomer to the music industry who wowed the crowd with her voice from the moment she opened her mouth. Favourite songs of hers include Revolving, Scream and Blow. Since the only place I can find these on the web is on myspace, I feel like I'm fifteen again.

Check her out, www.myspace.com/sparkthemusic

Marina finally comes on. She opens with Girls, my favourite lyrics being "Girls, oh girls, wag your tails to the beat". She chatted to the crowd between songs, remarking on the business men at the back who weren't clapping her and how she'd need some help singing due to her voice being affected by the "secret ciggies".
She goes on to sing pretty much her whole album; The Outsider, Rootless, Numb, Guilty, Hollywood, Shampaign, Oh No! Mowgli's Road, Obsessions and of course, I Am Not A Robot. She included a song called Seventeen which isn't on there, but just as good as the others. She sang perfectly throughout, regardless of the shouting "WE LOVE YOU MARINA" and "WHAT A SONG" after announcing she was to sing Guilty. She finished by singing her Radio 1 cover of 3OH!3's Starstrukk, which was incredible. Her second outfit of the night was made up of one of her own Marina T-Shirts, with some very fetching Coca Cola dungarees. She pulled it off, somehow.
Loved every minute and definitely buying tickets to see her again in November.

procrastination?

Sitting in a hot, uncomfortable IT room at university, I'm continuously telling myself I'm revising, even if the computer screen infront of me has two windows open, this one and Facebook.
Whilst trying to read about the life and times of Hester Prynne from Nathaniel Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter, there are many distractions around me that are far more interesting. For one, the bloke next to me appears to have given up altogether, and is fast asleep, his chin resting on his propped up arm. This is quite entertaining in itself, but is encouraging me to do the same. Must. Not. Sleep.
The second being R, my wonderful study companion who is on my other side. Looking at her now, she's furiously scribbling away, stealing occasional glances at the lighter between us, trying desperately to stay glued in her seat rather than give in to temptation and have a cheeky cigarette outside.
All I seem to have done is get a little bit over-excited with my highlighters and coloured pens, highlighting funny words and things that might be semi-useful in my exam. We've both spent about five precious minutes laughing at a post one of our mutual friends just published to another's facebook wall. It consists of the words, "JOE ITS YOU" and a very fetching photo of H from Steps. Facebook becomes so much funnier and cigarettes become even more addictive at this time of year, since we seem to do everything in our power just to avoid a bit of reading and note-taking. Am listening to Marina and the Diamonds on my iPod, and think I can remember more of her lyrics than I can of this bloody book, and may well resort to using them in my exam instead.
---
Just had said cigarette. Feel ill as have barely eaten all day, so going for nice romantic meal with R soon. Feeling slightly better now because have just seen an Edgar Allan Poe quote tattooed on the back of actress/love interest of Marilyn Manson, Rachel Wood. Am seriously considering doing the same before my exam on Wednesday, but somewhere I can actually see it.


All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

danger zone.

The exam period is an interesting one.
The library becomes a hunting ground, with people stalking the IT rooms ready to pounce on the first available computer they find. Eyes dart from side to side, looking for any excuse to lash out and hurl a keyboard at the closest unsuspecting student who so much as blinks at them the wrong way. When 3am comes around, there are students clinging on to their desks for dear life, screaming at the staff that they will never leave.
Slight exaggeration on my part.
Regardless, tensions are running high and for two to three weeks of every year, the library transforms from derelict, forgotten land to the most wonderful place in the world.
Two guys were having such a heated argument last night that I genuinely thought one of them was going to throw the other out of the nearest window, which wouldn't have ended well since this was on the third floor. It was around this time that a member of staff entered the room, threatening to fine anyone else who decided to talk. Personally I think most were to afraid to even open their mouths to breathe at this point, but it seemed to do the trick and I could go back to the wonders of Geoffrey Chaucer without wanting to hit the two loud-mouths with my 686 page long anthology.
It was a little later after being brave enough to venture out to the vending machine, only to find almost everything gone except Fanta (yuck), that my eyes started to blur and the desks were starting to look a bit more comfortable than they probably are, when I decided to admit defeat and head home. The journey down the three flights of stairs wasn't quite as perilous as the earlier one going up them, where people literally fly past you screaming their warrior cries as if going into battle, when actually they are only attacking silent study area, level 3.