<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734</id><updated>2011-11-18T22:07:42.015+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Veiled but FAR from hidden</title><subtitle type='html'>If you have a head, use your brain! (no matter how dysfunctional it may well be!). 

This blog is: Tragic random thoughts &amp; hallucinations from my delightful imagination. Us Muslim women may be cloaked but our voices can still be heard. There is no central theme, yet main topics may include thoughts on - religion, general life reflections &amp; humorous things that make my almost non-existent belly wobble in sheer delight.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-4405628342178819357</id><published>2008-12-13T02:49:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T02:58:36.966+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Worse than man-flu</title><content type='html'>Sitting here writing through squinted eyes and a heavy head, I finally understand what men go through when they have "man flu" only I feel worse, seeing I have "pregnancy flu" (meaning I cannot take any drugs for it!). I honestly cannot remember feeling this bad for a long long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, that's right - congrats to me ha? I am pregnant. (yes it has been a while since I have posted). I am due in 9 weeks time actually! (InshAllah).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking - do I keep this blog open and add to it? Will I ever add to it? Should I open a new blog? etc etc. I am hoping when I am a stay at home mum that I'll have more time to write about my overly boring mother's club style stories. But who knows!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me all the best - if anyone ever reads this blog anymore!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-4405628342178819357?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/4405628342178819357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=4405628342178819357' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/4405628342178819357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/4405628342178819357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2008/12/worse-than-man-flu.html' title='Worse than man-flu'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-7165168895149359400</id><published>2008-01-20T04:51:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T04:59:56.745+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost my mo-jo?</title><content type='html'>*ahem*&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Why do I always NOT stick to a task? I was never a hyper child, and I can never recall being easily distracted. Sure I would be off with the fairies at times, day dreaming or observing something that perhaps the other kids didn't. And no, Alhamdulilah I don't have autism. So here I am, in my mid 20's (okay, kinda creeping towards the 30 mark), and I am still distracting myself if I find the opportunity to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So at around lunchtime, I wrote a rather large list of things to do around the house. I even put square and circle tick boxes just to motivate myself. I got as far as the first item, that being to pray, and completed the task. Tick! Then onto the next item, right? Umm...not quite. It is now miserably dark, the sun has set (okay, in London that means 4pm - grr!) and I ended up spending the whole day throwing out things. Yes I did do work, but not what I originally set out to do. It was a hell of a lot of fun though. I threw out clothes (okay, I will give them to charity), receipts, beauty products I have never ever used, and so forth. After throwing out items, you would think I would now be going back to the original list to start ticking it off. Instead I find myself on Blogger!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I wonder if there will ever come a day when I learn to stick to a list/plan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Do people learn to do that with age, or does this "distracting" oneself get worse?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I better get some food into me. This is way too deep for my liking. Getting back into blogging isn't easy, ya know?  ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-7165168895149359400?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/7165168895149359400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=7165168895149359400' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/7165168895149359400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/7165168895149359400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2008/01/lost-my-mo-jo.html' title='Lost my mo-jo?'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-8505067572872101478</id><published>2008-01-12T21:20:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T21:29:39.369+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!</title><content type='html'>After a year and a half, this funky chicken is baaaaaaaaaaaack! (by popular demand of course) (well her sister's request anyway).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have missed writing on this blog, I really have! I thought about it so many times, and thought I would start a new blog...but if I started a new one, the connection to my past wouldn't be made, therefore making things kind of dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am again! My husband (yes, we are still married :P) just asked what I am doing. I have to admit, I am very random. I should be getting ready for our weekend trip, but here I am blogging. Nothing has changed in that respect...I have always chopped and changed and distracted myself since I can remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I best be off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Til next time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minime&lt;br /&gt;x&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-8505067572872101478?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/8505067572872101478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=8505067572872101478' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/8505067572872101478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/8505067572872101478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.html' title='I&apos;m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-115162811765728608</id><published>2006-06-30T09:47:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T10:41:57.720+10:00</updated><title type='text'>FUN QUESTIONNAIRE (Again!)</title><content type='html'>Thanks to fellow blogger “b.”, here is another fun questionnaire for people to copy and fill out as they like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note: There is another fun questionnaire under my Archive – “October” blog if you would like it. Also, the reason I freakishly leave these questionnaires blank yet still insist on keeping them on my site is because (besides the fact that I like to keep KINDA private)…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember a few months ago I was after these questionnaires online (having received some via email yet I so-typically-of-me deleted them &lt;bad habit of mine&gt; and then months later wondered why I deleted them). I was frantic to find one, wanting my then-husband-to-be (now-Husband slash Gangster) to fill it out. How else would I find out corny and useless facts like what his favourite flower is, or what’s his fav chocolate lol, or some juicier stuff like -- has he been in trouble with the law? Has he got a tattoo, etc. Mind you, there was no REAL juicy juice I found on him after all, well, maybe just a tiny bit *evil laugh* (hooray, I finally got my dream “bad boy”), well not really, but it makes me feel good thinking that *shrug*. So, Google I did. I G-oooooooo-gled my lil green eyes out with phrases such as “fun questionnaire”, “fill in questionnaire”, “email questionnaire” yet nothing came up. Now months later, finally with two questionnaires under my belt, I am feeling fairly pleased with myself. I figure that some poor soul will be out there doing the same thing as I was doing, searching Google for these questionnaires. I am hoping they find some luck in coming across them on my blog :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FUN QUESTIONNAIRE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What is your middle name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How big is your bed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.What are you listening to right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What are the last 4 digits in your cellphone number?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What was the last thing you ate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Last person you hugged?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. How is the weather right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Favorite type of Food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Do you want children?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Hair color?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Do you wear contacts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Favorite holiday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Favorite Season?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Have you ever cried over a love lost?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Last Movie you watched?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. What books are you reading?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Piercings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Favorite Movie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Favorite college football team?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. What were you doing before filling this out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Favorite animal? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Favorite drink?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Favorite flower?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Have you ever loved someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Who would you like to see right now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. What color are your bedroom walls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Have you ever fired a gun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Do you like to travel by plane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Right-handed or Left-handed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. If you could go to any place right now where would you go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Are you missing someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Do you have a tattoo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Do you still watch cartoons on Saturday mornings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Are you hiding something from someone right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Are you 18?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. What is the wallpaper on your cellphone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Are you afraid of the dark?&lt;br /&gt;42. Favorite hangout:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. 3 things you can't live without?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Favorite songs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. What are you afraid of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Are you a giver or a taker?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. What are your nicknames?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. What is your dad's middle name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. What do you sleep in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Stuck on a deserted island, and can only bring one thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Favorite TV commercial?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. First thing you'll save in a fire?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. What is your favorite color?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. What are the things you always bring with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. What did you want to be when you were a kid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. What do you usually do when the alarm turns on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. What color is your bedsheet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Who do you want to meet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. What do you think about before you go to bed?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-115162811765728608?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/115162811765728608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=115162811765728608' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/115162811765728608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/115162811765728608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/06/fun-questionnaire-again.html' title='FUN QUESTIONNAIRE (Again!)'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-115154987789941959</id><published>2006-06-29T12:57:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T16:43:08.200+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Content :)</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I have my mojo back to write. Whether my stomach is happy with that or not, I will never know because I just heard it growl at me. But that could just have something to do with the gastro I am probably getting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I type, admiring my engagement and wedding bands as they glimmer under the office lights. Having not taken my rings with me on my honeymoon, I have found that since I returned and began wearing them, I have become hypnotised by them. I have never been big on jewellery – but getting used to wearing a bit of bling was almost a natural transition from ‘clearly single’ to ‘look at me, I’m a princess’. Alright I am kidding. But I do become quite a bimbo when I start discussing my rings. I better stop. I better say MashAllah also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for an update on the wedding, honeymoon and married life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wedding: Alhamdulilah I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day (everything went according to plan!), and most importantly, I walked away knowing I made the right choice in marrying a man I could have only dreamt of previously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honeymoon: Again, SubhanAllah – perfect. If anyone wants suggested honeymoon destinations, just ask me. Three weeks in Malaysia was divine. We found a remote place for swimming, we ate like we’d never eat again and we spent the trip laughing like children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Married life: What married life? We got divorced. And this was all before our 2nd month anniversary. Haha – kidding. SubhanAllah, Alhamdulilah, Allahu Akhbar. Being married to the right person is incredible. Alhamdulilah we have a very good understanding, get along like a house on fire and almost identical outlook on life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How’s that for a summary on ‘my life’. That’d be a first for me. Usually I just cannot stop typing. However, I know I feel content enough with fewer words this time. Content is how I feel. Alhamdulilah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-115154987789941959?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/115154987789941959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=115154987789941959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/115154987789941959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/115154987789941959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/06/content_29.html' title='Content :)'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114342695971709328</id><published>2006-03-27T13:34:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T13:44:42.666+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection</title><content type='html'>I figured that it was about time that I wrote again. Lately I haven’t found anything ponder-worthy to write about. I have no small observations about my surroundings, because I am feeling oblivious to my surroundings these days. I am on such a high, and so in love, Alhamdulilah. I am feeling cocooned right now, feeling my emotions really deep, having never experienced anything like this, ever.  I am so in love that I just feel like spreading the joy a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are now six weeks left until my wedding! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to my fiancé last night, that I still cannot believe I am getting married to the man I met only a few months ago at a group dinner. I couldn’t believe that the man standing in front of me last night, the man I have grown to love so much, is the same smiley faced guy sitting there that night at the restaurant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember his big white smile and gorgeous eyes sparkling up at me, as he replied “Wa alaikum salaam”. My first reaction was “wow”, followed by an instant thought of “I didn’t know he looked like THIS!”. Chi Ching! Instant attraction. Having been introduced to him a week prior to this group dinner, I hadn’t give him a second thought as his sunglasses that day seemed to shade out every bit of the warmth on his face. It is in fact this warmth that makes him, well...“him”. I spent the whole night trying not to look at him, trying to direct my conversation to the group rather than just to him. But the more the night went on, the harder it got. What can I say? The guy got my humour!!! Did anything else matter to me at that point? lol. I recall leaving the dinner, and my sister saying to me “wasn’t he nice?”. For some reason, it took her to ask me that, for me to realise that “I really, really like this guy!”. And that doesn’t happen with me. I rarely find guys that I “click” with. Nevertheless, clicking with a random guy that I had just met. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is amazing how naseeb works out for people. Subhan’Allah. I used to think to myself “I wonder who I will end up marrying”. The possibilities are endless.  I also used to ask myself, “will I ever get married?”. Not that it was ever a pressing issue for me, nor for my parents, but still, it was a thought that crossed my mind every now and then. And to think that I had no idea my naseeb lay with an Englishman. Those damn foreigners, coming into MY country, stealing MY heart away! :P...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the talk on cacoons earlier: I am currently feeling cocooned with my thoughts on him, my feelings, and my need to be around him all the time. But going back only a few months ago, I was cocooned in a different way. I was cocooned in thinking and believing quite strongly (although they were always ‘unspoken rules’ in my mind), that my life was permanently fixed in not only Australia, but in Melbourne to be exact. My world up until now has been my family, and I cannot be blamed for not knowing anything else. And Alhamdulilah, what a beautiful family I have! Yet I made the most adult decision of my life when, with the support of my parents, I agreed to the possibility of letting go of my attachment to them, to the rest of my loving family, and life as I know it in gorgeous Melbourne. Accepting my fate with finding the man of my dreams was the easy part, yet accepting my fate could perhaps lie in a world foreign to my own, took a while longer to comprehend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are told to put our trust in Allah, and although I believed and still do believe this strongly, I don’t think I wanted to believe that Allah would intend for me to live abroad for a while. I guess I wanted everything: I wanted to be with my family, be with my man, and be in Australia. I then realised that it seemed I could only have 1 out of 3 of my favourite things, with the 1 thing being: my man. I then had to comprehend that finding the love of my life and starting a life with this man will take precedence above all else. And so it should I realised, seeing that InshAllah one day I will start my own family with him. InshAllah my family will always be there to love and support me, so it was time for this bird to leave her nest and fly. And by me putting my trust in Allah, and believing that I have always been a devout servant, InshAllah wherever my life leads me, will be in the best direction for my deen. I have always wished for nothing less in a partner: someone who would support and encourage me Islamically, and someone whose character is so delightful that he makes me smile and laugh everyday. Alhamdulilah, so far I have found both in him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I ask Allah for guidance. I ask Allah: “if (my man) is good for me, my religion, and my livelihood in this life and in the hereafter, then make it easy for me, and bless me with it, but if he is bad for me, then turn him away from me...”. If he was bad for me, I have figured that we wouldn’t have come this far. The only barrier (massive barrier as I saw it) that was prominent from the beginning was the fact that we are both from opposite ends of the globe. But SubhanAllah where there’s a will, there’s a way. The major barrier now InshAllah appears to be lifted due to sacrifices on both of ours parts. And no, it won’t be easy for either of us, yet InshAllah I am hoping Allah will make it ‘easier’ for us as our love and respect for each other grows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SubhanAllah, such a brilliant walk of life has walked my way. He has made me the happiest I can ever recall being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allahu Akbar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114342695971709328?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114342695971709328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114342695971709328' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114342695971709328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114342695971709328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/03/reflection.html' title='Reflection'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114230985781975915</id><published>2006-03-14T15:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T15:17:37.820+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Work no more...</title><content type='html'>I have always been one who has the worst of timing. When I should be washing the dishes, I am upstairs praying (okay, I decided to show a positive example first up!). When I should be sleeping, I am pampering myself; when I should be spending time with my mum, I am on the phone to my fiancé; when I should be working, I find myself filing my nails, and when I should be finishing off a major project here at work – I find myself with an unforgiving and untameable desire to post a new blog.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today’s blog was prompted by my solemn mood. My solemn mood was prompted by my general manager, yet the whole situation was prompted by me. Sorry, that sounded confusing. Too much prompting is going on.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a meeting with my general manager today. I knew this was coming and in a way I was glad to get it all out in the open. In summary, the push for my wedding to be sooner rather than later, as well as my uncertainty as to which country I will be living in within a few months has crushed my chances of having a long term career within this organisation. *sob* (okay, I am faking that sob, I am really not too fazed). I don’t even know why this solemn mood came about. I am the one who prompted (there goes that word again!) him to make my last day here at the end of April…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I wanted a miracle subconsciously. Maybe I wanted him to turn around and beg me to stay. I know he wouldn’t – but it would be nice. Maybe I don’t know what I am on about because I am sleep deprived.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway – everything is predestined to happen, so InshAllah this is for the best. Time will tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114230985781975915?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114230985781975915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114230985781975915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114230985781975915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114230985781975915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/03/work-no-more.html' title='Work no more...'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114230960212026417</id><published>2006-03-14T15:11:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T15:13:22.136+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding update!</title><content type='html'>Wedding update! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes people months and months to organise weddings. Actually, it can sometimes take people years and years! I believe people get so carried away with the kafuffle of the day, that they forget what the meaning behind the wedding is. Isn’t marriage all about the union of two souls? Isn’t it about the special bonding of two people because they share a life long commitment to be faithful to one another? And from an Islamic perspective, marriage completes half of one’s faith. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while all other people pull their hair out, me and my homeboy have almost organised everything for our wedding in ONE WEEK! Alhamdulilah. And that isn’t us cutting corners either. If we had 2 billion months to organise the wedding (as opposed to our 2 month dead-line), I can imagine our selection of cake, invitations, photographer and so on would have been almost identical. It is just that people like comparing, umm’ing and arr’ing about things and that is how wedding planning can drag on. My man and I are similar in that we don’t like to waste time over things. If we like something – we will place the order! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dress is on its way (currently in the making), invitations are being sorted tonight, and we are about to put the deposit down on the photographer and videographer. There are other bits and bobs that are also currently being paid for/confirmed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is all happening! Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah – so far everything is going swell. (Mind you, I never use the word swell – it just seemed humorous and fitting to slip it in).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114230960212026417?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114230960212026417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114230960212026417' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114230960212026417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114230960212026417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/03/wedding-update.html' title='Wedding update!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114101427973040217</id><published>2006-02-27T15:22:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T15:24:39.746+11:00</updated><title type='text'>External appearances</title><content type='html'>I am sitting here wondering how much a person’s external appearance can affect their behaviour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know as a female who wears the hijab, there is never a moment where I forget that I am representing Islam. I am always ‘myself’ yet I am a lot more controlled in the way I speak in public, and more importantly, I make sure that my behaviour and actions are that which represent Islam. I enjoy breaking down stereotypes of Islam, showing how content I am with my faith, and educating people who are curious about learning more on why I am a practising Muslim and what our belief entails. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This topic was triggered off in my head because I noticed the difference in character of one of my colleagues. As an introverted tobacco smoker who seemed kind and thoughtful, he occasionally chatted to me, making small talk here and there. But then the chin ring came along. This tiny pointed metal device inserted into his chin has turned him into an introverted smoker with a “bad boy” attitude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, getting back to the topic at hand - has his external appearance affected his behaviour? I wonder whether he is simply going through a rough spot in his life and this is making him appear to be gloomier than usual. OR, whether his chin ring has made him believe he has to adjust his behaviour to suit some rebellious heavy-metal-loving-dungeon-living-weed-smoking-dragon type of profile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever is the case – only time will tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114101427973040217?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114101427973040217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114101427973040217' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114101427973040217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114101427973040217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/external-appearances.html' title='External appearances'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114101214330388385</id><published>2006-02-27T14:47:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T14:49:03.336+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Donut...</title><content type='html'>I’m craving a donut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for fruit and vegies being filling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rarely crave donuts. Weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum is making my favourite cake tonight: “peanut butter cake”. It is so delicious!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114101214330388385?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114101214330388385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114101214330388385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114101214330388385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114101214330388385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/donut.html' title='Donut...'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114100611074858998</id><published>2006-02-27T13:07:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T13:08:30.766+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Forced feeding</title><content type='html'>The fruit and vegetable eating isn’t going all that great. My bananas have turned brown from the air-conditioning unit being switched off during the weekend. On my second day into my increased fruit and veg eating intake, I was told by a colleague that I should limit my fruit intake because fruit is high in natural sugars, and increase my vegetable intake instead. You can imagine what that did for my motivation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, it is my birthday today. Happy birthday to me! I just had a flashback of my birthday last year. I remember I was crying. InshAllah this birthday is a much happier one for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit here eating my sweet corn and four bean salad for lunch, I am finding my swallowing to be almost forced.  I’m not tracking too well with my healthy eating campaign, am I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scent of vinegar from my salad bites at my nostrils. Ewww.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m looking forward to some proper food tonight at the restaurant :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114100611074858998?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114100611074858998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114100611074858998' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114100611074858998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114100611074858998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/forced-feeding.html' title='Forced feeding'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114058787916858147</id><published>2006-02-22T16:56:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T16:57:59.286+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I got 5 on it</title><content type='html'>I have never been a big fruit eater and I am unsure sure why that is the case. I was told from a very young age that “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”. Well isn’t that ironic. I was never a fan of apples. I rarely ate them. If the formula is: not eating apples = increased exposure to doctors, then this formula in my case has sorta proved true. In which way exactly? Well Alhamdulilah I have always been quite healthy hence hanging around doctors has never been my “thing”. The reason I bring this up is because my fiancé is a doctor. Not eating apples does have its benefits that means. I won’t tell any young children that however ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided today (yes, spontaneous decision as always) that I wanted to incorporate more fruit in my diet. Why? Well yes, I rarely eat fruit! (unless it is chopped up into pieces and hand fed to me by my mother. Okay, I’m kidding. Well, kinda). Plus a “5 a day” campaign was released by the Department of Health in the UK (I stumbled across a website) where they promote the healthy eating of 5 pieces of fruit/vegetables per day. What portion of fruit/veg and the types of fruit/veg were outlined on the handy website. This inspired me to head out on my lunch break (okay, it was my second lunch break for the day) to the nearest supermarket and make some fruit/veg purchases. I like to work with the “convenience” motto. If the fruit is sitting there on my desk, I will eat it. If there is nothing sitting there calling out at me, I will probably crave chocolate (and devour it) or just starve until I get home (and home is a 1 1/2 hour drive!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even purchased a fruit bowl so as to make everything look pretty! So far so good. I have already had 3 out of the 5 recommended servings of fruit. When I get home I might have some vegies so that I reach the “5” quota. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I keep this “5 a day” policy up, I will be most pleased with myself. I might even incorporate this into my life as a lifelong change. How cool would that be? 5 portions of fruit/veg a day, 5 daily prayers, giving high-5’s to myself for self encouragement, watching “Hi-5” on DVD with my nephew, and listening to “I got 5 on it” by Luniz…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like a plan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll keep you posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114058787916858147?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114058787916858147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114058787916858147' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114058787916858147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114058787916858147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-got-5-on-it.html' title='I got 5 on it'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114049675178338073</id><published>2006-02-21T15:37:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T15:44:12.133+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Cake anyone?</title><content type='html'>“Why do I even bother?” I am left thinking to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I organised a nice healthy salad sandwich for work today. I kept everything wrapped up until lunch time and then made the sandwich up fresh (I’m not a fan of soggy sandwiches). It was great. It was filling. It was healthy. I have also been going to the gym (last week was a bad week so that doesn’t count, and this week isn’t going much better). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY, so I am getting married (INSH’ALLAH) and although Alhamdulilah I am a small-ish frame anyway, I decided I have to either lose a lil or maintain my weight (a decision made at about 1am before I went to bed this morning). Hence this is where the healthy salad sandwich came into it. Hence how I felt so good about myself all afternoon, gloating over my new healthy eating habits – thinking this is just the beginning of bigger and brighter days for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the evil piece of cake sitting on the desk behind me tempted me like crazy. It whispered words of desire to me. Okay, that just sounds creepy. Basically it told me that I am thin anyway so I can afford to eat it. It whispered the words “mmmmm” alongside the words “butter”, “tasty”, and more “mmmmmmm” sounds followed. So, eat it - I did. The coconut butter rich cake was indeed a pleasure to my tastebuds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem now remains around me trusting myself again. I have very little self control when it comes to sweets – I am the first to admit that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only way to go is if these tantalising tastebud tricksters are out of my way. The only reason this cake was here was because a lovely lady from work baked it for me (she even made sure all ingredients were halal!) to congratulate me for getting engaged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I will wake up at fajr (prayer) time, and head off to the gym. I will make sure there is no cake waiting for me when I get to work. If there is…I am in BIG trouble! (and big, is NOT what I want to be!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114049675178338073?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114049675178338073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114049675178338073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114049675178338073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114049675178338073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/cake-anyone.html' title='Cake anyone?'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-114048394841314202</id><published>2006-02-21T12:04:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T12:15:51.853+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Im in love!</title><content type='html'>Alhamdulilah I was fine being single there for a while (between people’s kind yet disastrous attempts at match making me) but knew it was time to settle down sooner or later. I always thought that if I couldn’t find the right guy, I’d just ‘settle’ for someone who InshAllah had faith and would be a family oriented guy (yet I possibly wouldn’t be head over heels in love with him). Islamically I know that marriage is supposed to complete half of one’s deen (faith). So yeah, I thought if I couldn’t find the right guy in a few years, I would do the right thing Islamically and settle for someone who would basically help me complete half of my deen, and that I would grow to love. What an old fashioned mentality for such a modern day girl! (ha!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT low and behold, I ended up finding someone who will InshAllah complete half of my deen AND who I will love forever and ever. Corny *spew*, yes, but let me tell you, I couldn’t have wished for anything better than this to happen. Alhamdulilah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve heard the word ‘love’ thrown around here and there from a very young age. Every song on the radio pretty much sings about it. As was highlighted by my man, the song So Sick by Ne-Yo sums up the topic just about right: “and I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears…” I used to wonder what all of the fuss was about, but at the same time I knew that it must be amazing otherwise the whole world wouldn’t talk about it so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now here I am with the beginning of what I believe is the feeling of ‘love’ in my heart. And here I sit, thinking about this feeling, and thinking to myself “so, is THIS how love feels?!”. It is such a lovely feeling inside, and Alhamdulilah I feel so content and happy. I know that these are still early stages, but they are ‘sure’ feelings within myself, and my gut feeling alongside my emotions tell me everything I need to know rather than my brain. Brilliant! Usually it is my mind that controls everything but Alhamdulilah this is the first time in my life that I have let the iron walls down from my heart and this Ice Queen that I have evolved to be, is finally starting to melt. Either that, or the air-conditioning unit at work isn’t operating properly again (and no, this is NOT an opportunity to ask “aren’t you hot?”). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for some breaking news: on Valentine’s Day, I was formally proposed to by my man!!! I should really start calling him my fiancé now. I love that word. I love the way the little tick flicks up on top of the “e” in fiancé and makes it look and sound so fancy. Oh, and of course, lest I forget the most important factor: it means things are more official between us, as we have both made a commitment to marry one another! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. He will be the man that I will spend eternity with InshAllah. Nothing makes me smile more than the thought of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-114048394841314202?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/114048394841314202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=114048394841314202' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114048394841314202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/114048394841314202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-in-love.html' title='Im in love!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113953777301874072</id><published>2006-02-10T13:11:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T13:16:13.056+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire! Fire! Fire!!!</title><content type='html'>My sister, an amusing character by nature, called me up and startled me the other morning as I was driving to work. "I am attending a protest at Parliament House", she claimed. Thoughts ran through my head as my heart ached at the thought that Melbourne was going to see uproar over the Belgian newspaper that published cartoons of Prophet Muhammed. "Is the protest over the cartoons?" I asked her sadly. "NO!" she shouted. She then continued by saying "it is the fire fighters protest over work conditions". Confusion kicked in, followed by laughter as she said with much glee, "there will be firemen everywhere!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister’s history of liking firemen started many years ago. It had something to do with the TV series Third Watch, pretty boy Jimmy who was a fire fighter, and his amazing dimples. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It still makes me smile at how I thought of one protest, and she was thinking of another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*smirk* (oh, is that a dimple?) ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113953777301874072?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113953777301874072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113953777301874072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113953777301874072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113953777301874072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/fire-fire-fire.html' title='Fire! Fire! Fire!!!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113953607128049571</id><published>2006-02-10T12:47:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T12:47:51.296+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Irony and the lizard</title><content type='html'>"Don’t rubbish our wildlife", was the sticker placed on the back of his white beaten up sedan. Alongside the sticker text was a cartoon of a lizard that could be seen with his upper half caught in a soft-drink can left lying on the floor. “Littering fools!”, the greenies would cry! It struck a cord with me also, as I sat there in traffic disgusted at how our rubbish could harm innocent wildlife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the irony of the situation kicked in. When the sedan took off as the traffic lights turned green, white smoke could be seen blowing out of his exhaust pipe. This continued as we travelled along together, until I lost him amongst traffic later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, preventing littering is great. But what about the gases from your car killing our ozone layer? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice one mate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113953607128049571?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113953607128049571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113953607128049571' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113953607128049571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113953607128049571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/irony-and-lizard.html' title='Irony and the lizard'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113876141073823790</id><published>2006-02-01T13:35:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T13:37:55.770+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Big decisions</title><content type='html'>It seems starting a life changing conversation is harder than what I first anticipated. I ran through the words a few times in my head in the car on the way there, but when I finally sat down with my man to tell him what had been playing on my mind, and what my heart had been telling me, my perfectly rehearsed lines were sort of blurted out in one go. The main thing is however, these essential words were said, and he understood the gist of what I was saying. Of course, in my typical style, I eased into the conversation by making a joke. It was simply a case of saying “actually, I wanted to talk to you about something”, where his face turned all serious and he said “go ahead”, with his heart probably racing at one million miles an hour. I followed on by making a joke which gave him a heart attack (something about me saying I was pregnant *yes, I was kidding*), followed by me saying “no, seriously, I have been wanting to tell you…” where I went right into the conversation. I made the decision in my head probably only the night before. And I made the decision subconsciously without realising it, because I was dreaming at the time when the decision was made.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prayed ishtikhara the night before, as I had the previous 6 nights. Ishtikhara is a prayer that Muslims perform when faced with an issue when they require Allah’s guidance. In previous nights I had some weird and wonderful dreams. Three dreams stuck out in my mind:  Dream One: My man saved a lady’s life. Dream Two: My sister who is currently 23 years old was a toddler in my dream. My dad was teaching her how to pray. And Dream Three: My man said he won’t be able to see me for a week because he wanted to spend time with his OWN family. He looked obese in my dream, and as he walked away, I was making fun of his weight by acting out his large stomach with my arms (trust me to be a clown even in my dream).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it wasn’t the dreams that led me to my decision. It wasn’t even a magical feeling that came over me as a result of ishtikhara. Everything, all of the events that have unfolded since he waltzed into my life have just gone very smoothly. And yes, the overall feeling is magical. So when I prayed my 7th night of ishtikhara, I woke up feeling great. My decision to have this conversation with him was something I just felt compelled to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what was this serious conversation about? Was it about what kind of wallpaper we will use in our home? What movie we will watch next at the cinemas? The reasons behind global warming? Or, why Humphrey Bear cannot speak? No. It was about the possibility of me relocating to another country. The possibility of US moving together if we were to marry (InshAllah). And a decision like that is almost impossible for someone like me to comprehend seeing I haven’t spent more than 6 weeks away from my family. And I could be relocating for YEARS. But I have made the decision, and this is the sacrifice I am making, for InshAllah a lifetime of happiness. And his sacrifice is even bigger, because ultimately he is going to relocate for me, and leave his life and family for ME perhaps. I still can’t comprehend that! I will have to make sure I am worth it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if all goes well over the next few months InshAllah, this lil Miss Veiled Ninja could find herself having a Mr Veiled Ninja by her side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113876141073823790?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113876141073823790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113876141073823790' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113876141073823790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113876141073823790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/02/big-decisions.html' title='Big decisions'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113833455145150126</id><published>2006-01-27T15:00:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T15:02:31.470+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Stinking hot!!!</title><content type='html'>I am going to start avoiding Ms S from now on. I mean, I always have, but today she is really not impressing me at all. And that is me being polite. Every time I go to say something bad about someone, religious words bombard my mind. I always remember the words hanging on our wall at home. The words of Prophet Muhammed (saw), "Those who believe in Allah and the Last Day should honour his guest, and those who believe in Allah and the last day should &lt;strong&gt;speak good or remain silent&lt;/strong&gt;". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, IT IS HOT. Stinking hot! I am feeling the pinch of this summer. It is the hottest summer I have felt EVER. Is this due to global warming? I don’t think so. Our home air-conditioning unit simply broke down on us. Our work air-conditioning unit has broken down on us also. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not impressed. I am finding myself getting agitated for the smallest reasons. And Ms S isn’t helping my cause. I AM being polite. But after her one millionth question posed at me, asking "Aren't you hot?", my smart-aleck comments are just bound to come out. Okay, I agree, wearing my black light woollen jumper on a day like today wasn't very smart. But when I left the house this morning, I was half asleep, and just trying to tell myself to iron a thin cotton shirt during this frame of mind was just bound to fail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is so hot!" was repeated at least 10 times earlier from Ms S sitting across the office in her singlet top. Thank goodness I have now moved desks otherwise I would be driven mad. Okay, I get the point: it is hot, so just deal with it like everyone else. You don't see me complaining! I'm a happy little vegemite as bright as bright can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did get original before though. Her usual "It is so hot!" comment was changed to "It is so friggen hot!". Well done. Ten points for original-ness. Okay, that isn’t even a word. So bite me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just told then that even the sight of me is making Ms S hot. YAY! Even more of a reason to avoid her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I did a very good job then of not speaking too badly of her (considering). What do you say? :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113833455145150126?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113833455145150126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113833455145150126' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113833455145150126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113833455145150126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/01/stinking-hot.html' title='Stinking hot!!!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113806384417052176</id><published>2006-01-24T11:50:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T11:50:44.200+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The hippiest hippy</title><content type='html'>I am unsure how we got our hands on it, but a ‘relaxation’ cassette tape ended up in our house when we were all youngsters. My memory of this tape is hearing a creepy middle aged man’s voice alongside hearing the swallowing of his saliva so loud into the microphone that even if we bothered TRYING to relax, the sound of his loud gulps would put us off. But the honest truth is, I think we all had intentions of using the tape to make us laugh rather than relax. As a child, controlling stress is obviously a thing we never needed, and neither was imagining we were floating down a staircase or floating on cloud nine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember a whole group of us kids lying on the carpet in my bedroom and listening to this tape. Usually there were at least one or two of the hippies in the making that actually wanted to relax (not me!) and the rest of us just lay there silent for the next few minutes waiting for someone to burst out laughing. This of course caused the rest of us to explode into fits of laughter also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the last memories I have of any form of meditation or relaxation. So perhaps 15 years has passed by and you are thinking I am a walking stress machine, right?  Not quite. Praying as a practising Muslim 5 times a day acts as the best relaxation anyone could ever imagine. Escaping this world and reciting words of the glorious Quran, praising Allah and thanking Him for all that He has given us, does more to the soul than any gulping saliva man could ever offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last night I did something that triggered off memory lane. I went to a class at my gym that assists in improving flexibility, light toning, and relaxation. The ‘advanced’ member of our class, a rather full figured lady stood right up the front. The instructor pointed this out to us; hence I was looking to her as my mentor seeing it was my first time attending. I realised I shouldn’t have bothered doing this half way through the class when my mentor could no longer pick herself up off the ground seeing she was so tired. The smirk on my face worried me, for I was scared it would erupt into laughter similar to that of my childhood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stretches and bending continued, breathing in as our arms arched up to the sky, and exhaling out as our arms went back down. Our thin blonde and possibly solarium tanned instructor with a shiny crystal belly ring reminded me of a white witch crossed with a love child from the 70’s. Her comforting soothing voice and enthusiasm showed through, as well as her passion for her job when I saw her holding herself back from singing the words to the track that was playing. It was quite a sight to see seeing most of the tracks sounded like wind chimes. I felt moments of guilt and unrest when my stomach began to grumble as I thought of the steak that was waiting for me at home. I smirked again at the fact that I was doing a healing class that perhaps at grass roots level would shun the killing of innocent cute animals for human consumption. To make myself feel better, I imagined my steak to be from a friendly smiley cow who winked at me as he was more than happy to set himself free and lay himself on my dinner plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I surprisingly controlled myself quite well during the class. Even during meditation time towards the end where we were asked to lie there silently whilst the instructor set the scene for us, I only let off a smirk or two. It seemed maybe I have finally grown up since the 15 years prior where we lay there laughing on my bedroom floor. It is amazing what age can do to someone :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit I cheated though. But I felt better when my sister confessed she did too later as we drove home together. When asked during meditation time to imagine we were lying on a beach towel on a remote island all ALONE, I followed her instructions until I thought of a better plan. Why should I be all lonely during my time on this remote imaginary island, when I can have the man of my dreams lying down beside me? So that’s what I did. My mind placed my man by my side as we lay on the warm soft yellow sand as the sun shone down on our skin, and the birds could be heard chirping in the distance as the waves crashed against the shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst my cheating seemed logical and within context, my sister confessed that SHE was in a field of beautifully scented flowers with her arms wide spread, spinning around and around in circles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How strange”, I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that in a competition as to who is the hippiest hippy out of my sister and me, my sister wins…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time and time again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113806384417052176?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113806384417052176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113806384417052176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113806384417052176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113806384417052176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/01/hippiest-hippy.html' title='The hippiest hippy'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113773312920414407</id><published>2006-01-20T15:29:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T15:58:49.256+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Halal dating</title><content type='html'>I have been so uninspired to write lately. It is rather sad that it has come to this point. I can write and write I am sure. Yet it is just a matter of giving myself a kick up the backside. Once I get started I should be fine. I will convince myself of that anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I writing such short and sharp sentences I wonder? That last paragraph looked rather disjointed. I will leave it that way though. I am sure that deep down there is a reason for my abrupt sentences. Maybe it is because it is Friday. Maybe it is because I am tired. Maybe it is because my keyboard is too high up, my legs are crossed and one shoe has fallen off me. Maybe it is because I have just moved desks at work. I am now sitting amongst people that aren’t even in my department. I wonder whether I will now have a bit more privacy and less people will be able to see my monitor. Somehow I doubt it. The shifting of desks did have one benefit however: it forced me to tidy up my desk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend is just around the corner. I am looking forward to a weekend of courting. Late night walks hand-in-hand, candle-lit dinners for two, warm hugs, goodnight kisses, the warm feeling of butterflies in my tummy, and feeling of my heart skipping a beat or two. Oh, well that is how the story usually goes for most people, right? In my case, yes, a romantic dinner and movie date tomorrow night have been planned. It will be just me and my man. Ahhh, did I forget to mention my brother and sister also! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst on the topic, it isn’t easy doing things by the rule book. But Alhamdulilah it is also very satisfying and rewarding knowing that we are trying to do things Islamically.&lt;br /&gt; So if I can foresee the future correctly, as my man yawns and brings his arms up in the air stretching, then brings one arm down trying to snuggle up behind me in the cinemas tomorrow night (like in those corny American classics), I can just see my brother swiftly kickboxing his arm into one million pieces in gratitude of the love that is being shown towards his big sister.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113773312920414407?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113773312920414407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113773312920414407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113773312920414407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113773312920414407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/01/halal-dating.html' title='Halal dating'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113635554821816033</id><published>2006-01-04T17:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T17:19:08.253+11:00</updated><title type='text'>A call to all man haters!</title><content type='html'>I feel slightly sheepish right about now. I have neglected my blog and was just alerted by my sister that I better get my act together because my online buddies are calling me! Oh, shucks! Thank you my lovelies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, I have neglected my blog for the unforbidden: A MAN. Argh! I can hear the screeching of all feminists worldwide. The burning smell of their bras sharply hits my nostrils. Their anti-male banners flutter high and furiously in the wind. The chanting of “All men are pigs!” pierces my eye drums as this imaginary circus of hairy arm pitted women stampedes around and around in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I call out to all of you man haters! I used to be one of you too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I have been preoccupied! I have been busy crushing all of my own theories on men. And I have done this without even realising it. Yes, it just happened all on its own. So while I have been busy enjoying life, the negativity that has been there for quite a while regarding men, is slowly dispersing out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole courting phase in a relationship turns out to be much more fun than I had ever imagined. But I am usually the crusher of all fun, so what has happened to me? I guess I am just cruising along this time because Alhamdulilah everything feels so right. These feelings are new to me, having never been felt before. I have found someone that I like, without even trying to like him. I don’t want to stop and analyse. I am sick of nit-picking at everything. I just want this to be FUN, FUN, FUN! (who sounds like a big kid now!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to let you know, I have never been a girl to be easily wooed into anything male related. I have always been on high alert to men’s tricks, their ploys, plots, lies, sweet words, free dinners, gifts, fluffy toys, red roses, heavy cologne, mind games and fast cars. I am a feminist, minus the hairy armpits. Well nah, not a feminist, but just a simple female wanting a simple guy, who treats her as his equal. I am someone who is not easily convinced. So even though this guy does have the sweet words, pays for dinners, buys gifts, fluffy toys, red roses, wears cologne and has a passion for fast cars, does that mean I am going back on my word? Am I going against my own little anti-male theories? Perhaps, but he comes with such a genuine quality about him that it is hard to believe that any of it is done with a hidden motive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make a point to let him know though, that I am not so naïve to these sorts of things. Last night when he opened the restaurant door for me and allowed me to go first, I said deviously “I’m onto you!”. Followed by “You are being very sweet now, but I will give you one more month and you will be slamming the door in my face, or rather, making ME open the door for YOU!”. With that comment, he just laughed. I was exaggerating obviously when I said that, because I don’t believe he would ever slam the door on me nor do I believe he would make me open doors for him. But I am aware that during the courting phase all of the pleasantries come out to play. Opening doors for me will soon turn into “open your own door” in an unspoken manner. Paying full attention to me will soon turn into distracted glances at passers by. Saying “no, you go first”, when we speak at the same time on the phone will turn into him making sure he gets in first…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it is a two way street with those types of things. He is yet to see my feisty side :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(poor dear soul!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113635554821816033?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113635554821816033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113635554821816033' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113635554821816033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113635554821816033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2006/01/call-to-all-man-haters.html' title='A call to all man haters!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113410801162974303</id><published>2005-12-09T16:59:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T17:00:11.660+11:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF!</title><content type='html'>It is a Friday afternoon at work and I am going nuts! I don’t think I can work anymore today, and I would be kidding myself if I even tried. I have been sitting here for the last hour or so finding every excuse under the sun to distract myself. It is called Fridayitis. It is when your brain shuts down on you and you have no way of going back to the world of wisdom, ideas, thoughts, and intelligence. It is when you can somehow focus on something on your desk, and find it ever so amusing. Whether that something be a chilli shaped pen, or an ant that travelled secretly with you to work in your handbag because you have an ant problem in your bedroom. I would give the Antz Pantz commercials a run for their money. How intelligent is this lil ant? It has travelled 45kms with me all the way to work, and then has the cheek to parade around MY desk like he owns the place. Well, I suppose I should give credit where credit is due. Well done ‘lil fella. I am sure your ant buddies are green with envy right about now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Currently listening to:&lt;/strong&gt; Wild World by Cat Stevens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113410801162974303?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113410801162974303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113410801162974303' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113410801162974303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113410801162974303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/12/tgif.html' title='TGIF!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113313888564359483</id><published>2005-11-28T11:46:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T12:38:14.646+11:00</updated><title type='text'>?????????????????????????</title><content type='html'>The more I think about things, the more suspicions I find arise in my think-tank of a brain that I have been blessed with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does a gangster necessarily equate to being a player? What has he done in his past? Is he willing to let his Islamic knowledge grow with time? Will he consider relocating for me, FOR LIFE? Am I really worth it? He will have to give up everything that he knows! His family, his surroundings, his friends! These are HUGE decisions. And these are extremely important questions I have to pose to him soon InshAllah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Alhamdulilah, my gangster seems so sure (so far) of how things are going. Allah (swt) knows all of the hidden matters. I am just trying to take everything in my stride and InshAllah see how things pan out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a quick read over my last post just then. Reading over my positive words gave me a few moments of ease. Alhamdulilah, how hard is it to find a guy that you totally connect with? Someone who makes you smile and laugh each time you hear from him. Someone who you are so different to, yet so similar. Ladies, hopefully you know what I am saying here! But the fact of the matter remains: I still have a lot of questions to ask and probing to do. My gangster was a total stranger to me a few weeks back, yet now all of a sudden I am confronted with the possibility that this may be the guy I could spend eternity with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To westerners, the whole way us Muslims go about marriage just seems warped, and I can understand that, because I have been raised as a western Muslim. But I also respect and love the Islamic concept of marriage, where the union between male and female is a blessing from Allah (swt) and is considered to complete HALF of one’s faith. A husband and wife are considered garments for one another; they should respect and love one another, and protect each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only that (as if that isn’t enough motivation!), but a solid marriage is a strong basis to grow one’s own faith and Islamic knowledge on…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember thinking the following thoughts for as long as I had the male specimen interested in me. When you go beyond all of the components that make up your relationship, and focus on the sole core of your existence, you are snapped back into reality quite quickly. Why are we brought into this world? We are brought into this world to worship Allah (swt) alone, without any partners. And as a reward for worshipping Allah (swt), InshAllah we are rewarded with paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The silly smirk on your face that appears when remembering that ‘special’ someone, singing to yourself, the butterfly feeling in your stomach, sparkly engagement ring that follows, the honeymoon, the laughter and tears of day-to-day married life, the children (InshAllah), the worries that come along with being a parent, etc – when you go WAY beyond that, at the end of one’s life, you should be left wondering how you spent your years, and whether or not ALL of these actions in which you have performed have created good deeds, and whether or not these deeds, yet most importantly - Allah’s mercy alone will enter you into Paradise. Yes, heavy stuff indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to keep a focus, and I believe InshAllah if paradise is your main objective, all of the other things that come along in life, although brilliantly exciting, they are all just a part and parcel of what your ultimate outcome will be. Yes, I like to take the “fun” out of Fun Land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;InshAllah I strongly believe that this is a focus which I will always want to keep, but I also believe my way of thinking about relationships currently is perhaps a bit unrealistic due to the “unknown”. My thoughts will most likely change, based on, 1. when I experience love (puppy love at the very least), 2. when I get married, 3. when I go through all of the trials and tribulations of life in general. Only then will I have enough experience to base my little theories on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;InshAllah in a few weeks time, a lot more will seem crystal clear to me regarding my situation. I am just unsure now because I don’t have the answers in front of me. And the reason I don’t have the answers yet is because I am yet to ask him the questions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if I start putting a question mark after each one of my sentences thrown his way, maybe there will appear to be a light at the end of the tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The power of the question mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Practise makes perfect:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;??&lt;br /&gt;???&lt;br /&gt;????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113313888564359483?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113313888564359483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113313888564359483' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113313888564359483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113313888564359483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/blog-post.html' title='?????????????????????????'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113289292287602273</id><published>2005-11-25T15:25:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T14:20:30.083+11:00</updated><title type='text'>My Gangster...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;AIIIIIIIIIGGHT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been holding back on some information that could be “the” turning point in my life. Do you like how I just casually slipped this “News Flash” in? Once again, I do it to avoid the freak-out factor inside of me erupting. But then again, in this instance I am not freaking out for some reason. Everything just seems to be smooth sailing for now. And no, this post is not about me taking sailing lessons either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not want to get too hopeful, just in case everything comes crashing down on me. It could be another hopeful moment that will be lost in time. So here the story goes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 weeks ago, a really sweet and funny gangster swayed my way. As the usual circumstance goes, this was not expected whatsoever! Within the past 2 weeks, things have just gone from good to better Alhamdulilah! I am not getting my hopes up too high though, just in case everything comes crashing down on me (once again).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won’t go into specifics, seeing that specifics would only really need to go into a REAL diary (if I had one), rather than my virtual diary (blog) for everyone to read!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what the best news is?! This guy doesn’t have a major complexity/complication/defect as all of the others have!! Well actually, there is one major complication, but that can be worked on if Allah permits and it has nothing to do with him as a person. SubhanAllah!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and to the anonymous dude who hounded me in my post regarding Eye Sour Lolly by littering my comments section with insults (before I skilfully deleted them): It looks like I am not superficial after all! I just needed to find the right guy. I wasn’t drawn to this guy solely based on his looks (although he is cute!), yet was drawn to him based on his character. Alhamdulilah he has the basis there to be a very strong Muslim Insh’Allah, one where we can learn and grow together in our imaan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;So to my gangster: YO YO YO and all that jazz. Let the good times roll InshAllah...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113289292287602273?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113289292287602273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113289292287602273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113289292287602273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113289292287602273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-gangster.html' title='My Gangster...'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113283309138562105</id><published>2005-11-24T22:42:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T22:51:31.400+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Slack, Slack, Slack...</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I shied away from writing a post or two lately. So sue me (hehe).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually started up this blog for one reason alone: because I love to write. In an unusual way, I was drawn to writing all sorts of things about myself so that they were available for the public to see, fellow Australians, and what the heck, while I was at it, the entire world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the reason I write is not to big note myself nor is it to gather some sorta Internet geeky fan base. I don't have nearly the same amount of hits on my site as other people, nor as many comments, but nor does that matter anything to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I created this blog because I was just too lazy to buy a diary. In a way it is exactly that - a diary. On second thought, it defeats the purpose of a diary. Isn't the purpose of a diary to keep your thoughts a 'secret'? Well I suppose we are in the year 2005, so nothing remains secret anymore. If ASIO or the Federal Police are reading this blog now, "HELLO!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think of this blog as a diary that has been purposely left on a train seat. Random curious strangers come and sit down on that very seat and read through the mumblings scribbled on the page. Others pick it up, realise that it is nothing but tales of someone leading an average life that is just as boring as their own, so they put it down again. And then there are the people, 'the chosen people', who probably have faces that resemble that of a blessed saint, bright as the sun with their aura beaming brighter than their monitor, with their mere presence turning the night into day, who read my blog constantly and continuously and are loyal Veiled Ninja readers. *oy, yes, I am talking to you* Bless thee my child!! You are my "VIP" readers, and yes indeed....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are probably non-existent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113283309138562105?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113283309138562105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113283309138562105' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113283309138562105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113283309138562105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/slack-slack-slack.html' title='Slack, Slack, Slack...'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113098535901416553</id><published>2005-11-03T13:32:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T14:48:05.550+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Template Madness</title><content type='html'>Okay, I am the first to admit that I am hopeless with computers. How I even got a blog happening is a miracle in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the story goes, my template has been stuffing up lately. My Profile has shifted down towards the bottom of the page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone can give me pointers as to how to get the Profile fixed, please please please do so! I want the profile to be up the top of the page!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want it looking quite straight forward, the way it was when I first started blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please email any advice to &lt;a href="mailto:veiledninja@hotmail.com"&gt;veiledninja@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt; or post a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks so much. May Allah bless you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113098535901416553?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113098535901416553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113098535901416553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113098535901416553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113098535901416553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/template-madness.html' title='Template Madness'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113096838913282987</id><published>2005-11-03T08:40:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-11-05T22:35:56.256+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Eid Mubarak / Selamat Hari Raya / Happy Bayram</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Asalam Alaikum my fellow Muslims,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;However or whatever you say to celebrate this special occasion (ie. Eid Mubarak, Selamat Hari Raya, Happy Bayram, etc) depending on where in the world you are from or what culture you belong to, InshAllah may Allah bless you all on this beautiful day, and reward you for fasting the month of Ramadan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yes peoples, yesterday we fasted the last day of Ramadan hence today is our celebration.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I made my nephew cup cakes with various colours as icing, so InshAllah I cannot wait to see his gorgeous face light up with joy :D&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113096838913282987?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113096838913282987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113096838913282987' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113096838913282987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113096838913282987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/eid-mubarak-selamat-hari-raya-happy.html' title='Eid Mubarak / Selamat Hari Raya / Happy Bayram'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113090501976017058</id><published>2005-11-02T15:16:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T22:56:15.096+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Prospective career in sailing?</title><content type='html'>When I was about 4 years old, my lovely mother attempted and succeeded in making my sister and me a sailor inspired dress. Decked out in our navy knee length dress with a wide white sailor looking collar – we looked one million dollars. Our white frilly ‘bobby’ socks (gosh how I miss them!) and white sandals completed an already perfectly cute outfit. I fit the part of being a sailor yet had no ship to sail, not even a boat, just an abundance of water – our inflatable backyard pool and a beautiful beach 5 minutes away (if you could avoid standing on syringes and broken bottles). Some of my best memories are of my summer holidays. I remember going down to that beach, feeding chips to seagulls and going on pony rides on nearby green grass. But I was far from being a sailor, even if I did look the part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 years later when I was 16 years old, I was excited by the opportunity to take lessons in how to sail a boat. The ‘lil sailor in me was bursting with energy! My sailor dress that I once owned, was now nowhere to be seen. Instead, I now wore jeans and a t.shirt, and had an ego so big that it could rock (and sink) the boat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my sailing lessons began. It has been so long ago now and my memory has failed me, but the lessons were something about how the sail catches the wind, using the tiller to steer the boat and not getting whacked in the head with that thinga-mi-doo. As you can tell, I wasn’t listening properly to the instructions told. I have never been great with instructions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With half of the instructions in my head, and the other half drifting somewhere over the lake, I set out in my boat with my school friend – attempting to sail like a true sailor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were going great when my friend directed the boat out from the pier towards the middle of the lake. The wind seemed to be calm as we lightly cruised along the lake on this perfect summer day. But my friend was always better at following instructions than I was. It was now my turn to take hold of the tiller. If you can picture this scene, it was me sailing back from the middle of this large lake, towards land. Yes, we were heading towards the pier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That stupid tiller! Why can’t small boats just have steering wheels? But then again, maybe a steering wheel wouldn’t have benefited me either. You see, moving vehicles and poor little me weren’t a good combination at that point in my life. I had repeated dreams as a child that I was in a car, the car was about to crash, and as I was sitting in the driver’s seat, I was responsible for stopping the vehicle. I could never work out how to stop it, so that is when I would wake up in a puff. I also had a phobia of dodgem cars. For some reason, the steering wheels were always faulty (or, so I thought), as they made me drive straight into other drivers, as well as around in circles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pier did seem a couple hundred metres off in the distance at this stage, as I was still trying to work out what the hell a tiller was, but more so, what the hell a boat was. But hey, I wasn’t totally clueless! I did know that if I pushed the tiller away from me, the boat would go in one direction, and if I pulled it towards me, the boat would go in another. But which one was which, I had no idea. And that is a very important concept to learn and remember. Trust me. Particularly when the wind starts going nuts around you, your sail stiffens up and you start charging full-speed-ahead towards the pier in front of you! YES, by this stage, the pier was literally in front of us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Til this day, I can still hear my teacher’s strong British accent screaming out at me: “Tiller away!! Tiller away!!”. I don’t know who was more scared, him standing there helplessly on the pier, or us roaring ahead, about to hit the pier at an intense speed in that tiny psychotic good for nothing boat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BAM! We hit the pier at a fairly high speed. Our bodies jolted. They really should install seat belts on those things! Even if the boats are built for recreational sailing only. I was more scared that I had put a nasty hole in the boat, rather than being concerned for my well-being (or my friends for that matter!). Fortunately there was no (or minimal) damage done to the boat. It seemed the most damage done was to my teacher’s mood, the pigmentation of his skin (which had turned hot pink), and my usually well inflated ego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was yelled at for the next 10 minutes by my teacher about how I should follow instructions better, and how I should have tillered “away”. Yes okay, I got his point, but I didn’t even know what that meant at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don’t know what the big deal was anyway. This whole event was triggered by a young lady who, until this very day, gets mixed up with signs that say “Push” and “Pull” on shop doors. It was a disaster waiting to happen in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I went home that afternoon, I walked up to the colourful list on my bedroom wall, with the bold header “Prospective Careers”. I crossed the word “sailor” off my list with a big black marker, as a tear trickled down my rosy cheek.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113090501976017058?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113090501976017058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113090501976017058' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113090501976017058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113090501976017058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/prospective-career-in-sailing.html' title='Prospective career in sailing?'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-113076728597618164</id><published>2005-11-01T00:52:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T01:01:25.990+11:00</updated><title type='text'>"Eye Sour Lolly"</title><content type='html'>I just read back over my previous post titled "Eye Candy" and smirked at the enthusiasm jumping out at me. If my enthusiasm were a type of candy, it would have represented Hubba Bubba (gum). The flavour was intense, yet short lived. In fact, the gum got stuck to my shoe without me realising it, before it caught itself onto some gravel, and pulled itself away from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please welcome "Eye Sour Lolly" onto centre stage. Thunderous applause. Dead silence. Previously this fine chap was known as "Eye Candy." Indeed he sure was fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out that in 5 years, a person can change almost beyond recognition. How Eye Candy could have changed THAT much is beyond me.  When I got to meet him last week and saw him smile, at that very second I thought he resembled his old self. But as soon as the smile faded, so did my Eye Candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me shallow but I do not want to get involved with someone who does not catch my eye a little. I am not after Brad Pitt (although that would be nice). I just want someone "normal" looking. I am sick of hearing "this guy is nice, BUT he has/is....(name complexity/complication/defect)". I am all butted out. Just normality is all I ask. Where are these guys? Do they even exist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back to square one again it seems. I am just fortunate this time round I didn't get my hopes up (too much, anyway).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-113076728597618164?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/113076728597618164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=113076728597618164' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113076728597618164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/113076728597618164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/11/eye-sour-lolly.html' title='&quot;Eye Sour Lolly&quot;'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112977120066903061</id><published>2005-10-20T11:17:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T11:20:00.676+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Virtual sailor</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“We cannot change the direction of the wind, but we can alter our sails”.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (Anonymous).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across this quote today and thought I would share its brilliance with you. I will inform you of my own personal “sailing” experience soon. Let’s just say…I was never meant to be a sailor, that’s for sure!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112977120066903061?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112977120066903061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112977120066903061' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112977120066903061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112977120066903061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/virtual-sailor.html' title='Virtual sailor'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112959308987205915</id><published>2005-10-18T10:04:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T10:04:25.813+10:00</updated><title type='text'>“Eye Candy”</title><content type='html'>So, I have been meaning to write this post for ages, but I thought the timing was slightly inappropriate. And I guess I really shouldn’t start a post by writing “So”. Maybe it is my way of casually starting this post, without making a big deal out of it in my mind. Sometimes the more you think, the worse it is. For me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason for me getting a kick-start with this post is because of an unexpected occurrence that has come my way. And random unexpected occurrences are what I like. Well they are what I have been told to ‘wait for’ anyway. I have been told “it happens when least expected!”. But how can you wait for something unexpected? Somehow I have done just that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is this unexpected occurrence I am talking about? Well it is a possible match-making scenario between myself and Mr “Eye Candy”. Excuse the tackiness to his new found nickname, but my justification is that it is well suited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have now figured, there is a possibility I am going to be swept off my feet soon, so I may as well get in early with this post. I am possibly jumping the gun. Okay, I AM jumping the gun. And Allah knows best. I have had many enquiries from the male specimen come my way, so without sounding prude, this may just be another attempt at match-making gone wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is always a nice short lived thrill anyway; a ‘possibility’. A moment in time that will perhaps soon be forgotten. A moment that will grind the nerves within me, forcing me to somehow feel them in the pitt of my stomach. Hey, did I just say “pitt”? Eye Candy does somewhat resemble Brad Pitt actually. Hmm. But that is beside the point. Or is it? These types of random occurrences have let me down in the past. They may seem like the biggest deal in my life at that moment, only for me to forget almost every waking event, emotion and reaction involved only months down the track (or days or weeks, depending on whether I am able to successfully block it out of my memory).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a Muslim bachelorette. As a practising Muslim, I don’t ‘date’ as such, yet more often than not, get introduced to ‘possible candidates’ through either family or friends of mine. After many failed attempts, I have convinced myself that practising Muslim guys with great personalities and great looks are in the rarity. I have convinced myself I will have to ‘settle’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was what I thought, up until the other day…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was told about Eye Candy the other day, possibly at the worst of timing (in the toilet of a hospital) by my very eager sister. It has been a few years since I have seen Eye Candy, yet will have the opportunity to see him again soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will keep you posted Insh’Allah (God Willing!). For some reason, I am a little bit more positive than usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112959308987205915?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112959308987205915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112959308987205915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112959308987205915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112959308987205915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/eye-candy.html' title='“Eye Candy”'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112927034676554242</id><published>2005-10-14T23:42:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T23:43:39.776+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Beep, Beep, Beep</title><content type='html'>So, fasting the month of Ramadan has Alhamdulilah (praise be to Allah!) so far been quite easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I would give you all a snap shot of a typical (or not-so-typical) morning of a fasting day (during the month of Ramadan), in the life of yours truly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.30am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; My bedroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Beep, beep, beep. This is the sound of my alarm! It is NOT the sound of me swearing and the ‘beep’ censoring the swearing out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.31am:&lt;/strong&gt; Consider how my stomach feels so full from the feast from the night before, that I possibly might not be able to fit in a Ramadan breakfast (called ‘sahoor’ in Arabic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.31am and 20 seconds:&lt;/strong&gt; Convince myself that no, I need to eat, otherwise I might get too hungry throughout the day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.31am and 30 seconds:&lt;/strong&gt; Knock something over in the dark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.31am and 50 seconds:&lt;/strong&gt; "Ouch" (yes, my pain receptors are delayed at this time in the morning)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.33am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; Bedrooms of siblings/parents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; In a croaky voice, wake up the family to come and join me for sahoor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.35am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; Kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Sit down at the table with eyes glazed over, trying to decide in a half-asleep state what I feel like consuming at such an early hour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.36am:&lt;/strong&gt; My brother and sister enter the kitchen, followed by my father&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.37am&lt;/strong&gt;: My brother, sister, father and I sit there, wondering what we should eat. I decide to do the unthinkable, and open our overly-packed-with-Ramadan-food refrigerator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.40am:&lt;/strong&gt; Wet my whistle with a glass of cold milk. The milk has to be ice cold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.50am:&lt;/strong&gt; Consume a light breakfast of 2 toasts with either honey, peanut butter or Nutella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.51am:&lt;/strong&gt; Find the secret stash of chocolate that we are hiding from my father. Devour chocolate when dad isn’t looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.55am:&lt;/strong&gt; Realise that my mother is still asleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.55am and 20 seconds:&lt;/strong&gt; Run upstairs in a frantic state&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.55am and 30 seconds:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; Parent’s bedroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Tell my mum to "get up!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.00am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; Bathroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Brush teeth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.02am:&lt;/strong&gt; Scull some water just in case I die of thirst during the day! (Yeah right! It would be a bit hard dying of thirst sitting down in an office all day!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.03am&lt;/strong&gt;: Make the intention that I am going to fast for the day, asking Allah to make it easy for all Muslims and myself. Ask Allah that He accepts this fast of mine and all of my fellow Muslims&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.05am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; Kitchen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Tidy up food and wash dishes (or just place dishes in sink if we are feeling lazy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.06am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; Bathroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Wash up for the morning prayer Fajr by performing ablution (called ‘wudu’ in Arabic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.10am:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Setting:&lt;/em&gt; My bedroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Situation:&lt;/em&gt; Upon hearing the prayer alarm-clock go off with the beautiful sound of the ‘call to prayer’ (called ‘athan’ in Arabic), I commence praying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.15am:&lt;/strong&gt; Fall back asleep (it doesn't take too long). Tummy is happy. My belly button smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.30am:&lt;/strong&gt; Beep, beep, beep. Censored out swear words at the thought of going to work. Kidding! This is the sound of my alarm going off. I am one slightly groggy young lady wondering what the day will bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;It has been reported by the way of Abu Hurairah (raa) that the Prophet (peace be upon him) reported that Allah (SWT) said in a Hadith Al-Qudsi: &lt;strong&gt;"All services of the son of Adam are for him except fasting. It is for Me, and I will reward him for it. Fasting is a shield. On the day you fast, do not use obscenity, nor yell at others, nor act ignorantly towards them. However, if anyone abuses you verbally or attempts to draw you to fight with him, say 'I am fasting' two times. The Prophet (saas) then states: I swore by the One (Allah) in Whose Hand is the soul of Muhammad, the breath of the faster is sweeter to Allah on the Day of Judgment than the scent of musk. The faster experiences enjoyment twice: he is pleased when he breaks his fast, and he is pleased when he meets his Maker"&lt;/strong&gt; (Muslim)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112927034676554242?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112927034676554242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112927034676554242' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112927034676554242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112927034676554242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/beep-beep-beep.html' title='Beep, Beep, Beep'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112926970587893137</id><published>2005-10-14T16:00:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T16:02:58.850+10:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dear Nana II</title><content type='html'>My nana passed away on Monday (10th Oct). May Allah grant her with paradise InshAllah (God willing). Ameen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112926970587893137?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112926970587893137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112926970587893137' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112926970587893137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112926970587893137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-dear-nana-ii.html' title='My Dear Nana II'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112848649512885226</id><published>2005-10-05T14:26:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T14:28:15.136+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Why ‘Veiled Ninja’?</title><content type='html'>Okay, well I have been alerted by my siblings, that they absolutely cannot stand ‘Veiled Ninja’, as my alias through my posts. They have muttered words such as “violence…psycho…” saying that my alias would bring on all of these thoughts to those who view my blog at first glance. I agree with them, now that I have given it more thought, to a certain extent, but wouldn’t tell them this of course. Perhaps the alias is somewhat deceiving, but to those who read into my posts further, you will get an understanding of what I’m all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am obviously a veiled Muslim lady, dressing modestly in my clothing, and wearing the lil head covering that everyone fusses over, hence where the &lt;strong&gt;‘Veiled’&lt;/strong&gt; bit comes into the equation. Secondly, I am a lil feisty one at times, full of energy and stamina, and I fight through my words (if need be) rather than invoking physical violence (I got over that stage when my younger brother grew taller than I, and I knew my girly strength would be nothing compared to his), hence where the &lt;strong&gt;‘Ninja’&lt;/strong&gt; part comes into it. Also, I have heard the term ninja used to describe Muslim women before, whether they be donning the hijab or the niqaab (face covering). Maybe my humor is just whacked out, but I actually find that quite funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this one is to the lady who looked at me funny in the supermarket once (yes, my memory serves me well at times). I glanced up at her as if to say “what are you staring at?”, whilst a whole pyramid of tissue boxes on promotional display simultaneously came crashing down behind her. She looked shocked, perhaps thinking I put a spell on her! Well lady, I don’t do spells, but it serves you right – gawking at someone is very very rude!! Dear lady in the supermarket, don’t you know that you cannot muck around with the Veiled Ninja?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now left smirking at the stupidity of my alias (as my feet do their own thing by escaping me under my work desk and practicing some ninja kicks!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112848649512885226?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112848649512885226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112848649512885226' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112848649512885226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112848649512885226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/why-veiled-ninja.html' title='Why ‘Veiled Ninja’?'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112848147950191370</id><published>2005-10-05T13:18:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T14:28:41.946+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Questionnaire</title><content type='html'>Previously I had the below (or similar) questionnaire filled out. I have now deleted my answers because I noticed the questionnaire was in high demand, and I am sure you would appreciate a blank questionnaire rather than hitting the delete key fifty million times ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Share the questionnaire with your friends and loved ones and learn a lil more about each other!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Please complete the following FUN QUESTIONNAIRE!! Answers can simply be “yes” or “no” or one word answers in some instances, but generally try and ELABORATE on the answers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once completed, forward to as many friends as possible, including the person who sent it to you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;PERSONAL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Full Name:&lt;br /&gt;Age:&lt;br /&gt;Birth date:&lt;br /&gt;Siblings:&lt;br /&gt;Pets:&lt;br /&gt;Nicknames:&lt;br /&gt;Schooling/degrees:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FAVOURITE..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colour:&lt;br /&gt;Food:&lt;br /&gt;Beverage:&lt;br /&gt;Ice cream flavour:&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate:&lt;br /&gt;Class:&lt;br /&gt;Teacher:&lt;br /&gt;Number:&lt;br /&gt;Flower:&lt;br /&gt;Day:&lt;br /&gt;Book:&lt;br /&gt;Movie:&lt;br /&gt;Actor/Actress:&lt;br /&gt;TV show:&lt;br /&gt;Fast Food Restaurant:&lt;br /&gt;Store:&lt;br /&gt;Board Game:&lt;br /&gt;CD:&lt;br /&gt;Singer/s:&lt;br /&gt;Musical Instrument(s):&lt;br /&gt;Cologne/Perfume:&lt;br /&gt;Computer Game:&lt;br /&gt;Pastime:&lt;br /&gt;Thing to do on the Weekend:&lt;br /&gt;Word/Phrase:&lt;br /&gt;Holiday: &lt;br /&gt;Sleeping position:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LEAST FAVOURITE..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colour:&lt;br /&gt;Food:&lt;br /&gt;Beverage:&lt;br /&gt;Class/Subject:&lt;br /&gt;Teacher:&lt;br /&gt;Movie:&lt;br /&gt;Restaurant:&lt;br /&gt;Word/Phrase:&lt;br /&gt;Day:&lt;br /&gt;Chore:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HAVE YOU EVER..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Been In Love:&lt;br /&gt;Used Tobacco:&lt;br /&gt;Drank Alcohol:&lt;br /&gt;Smoked weed:&lt;br /&gt;Done Drugs:&lt;br /&gt;Broken the Law:&lt;br /&gt;Thought you were going to die:&lt;br /&gt;Run away from home:&lt;br /&gt;Broken a bone:&lt;br /&gt;Lied:&lt;br /&gt;Had a Medical Emergency:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DO YOU BELIEVE IN..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love at first sight:&lt;br /&gt;Luck:&lt;br /&gt;Aliens:&lt;br /&gt;Ghosts:&lt;br /&gt;Horoscopes:&lt;br /&gt;Heaven:&lt;br /&gt;Hell:&lt;br /&gt;Yourself:&lt;br /&gt;Angels:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHICH IS BETTER..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coke or Pepsi:&lt;br /&gt;Oranges or apples:&lt;br /&gt;One pillow or two:&lt;br /&gt;Pools or hot tubs:&lt;br /&gt;TV or radio:&lt;br /&gt;Paper or plastic:&lt;br /&gt;Summer or winter:&lt;br /&gt;Day or night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cried:&lt;br /&gt;Went to a movie:&lt;br /&gt;Talked on the phone:&lt;br /&gt;Read a book:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHAT IS/ARE...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your most prized and important material possession:&lt;br /&gt;Your biggest accomplishment:&lt;br /&gt;Your biggest fear:&lt;br /&gt;Your biggest talent:&lt;br /&gt;Your biggest weakness:&lt;br /&gt;The first thing you do in the morning?&lt;br /&gt;The worst thing you did as a child?&lt;br /&gt;The best advice you have ever received?&lt;br /&gt;The best yet worst thing about you?&lt;br /&gt;The characteristics you inherited from your parents?&lt;br /&gt;Five words to describe yourself?&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;The most pleasant thing about you?&lt;br /&gt;The most unpleasant thing about you?&lt;br /&gt;The first thing/s that attracts you to a person of the opposite sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHO..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes you laugh the most:&lt;br /&gt;Is the most psychotic person you know:&lt;br /&gt;Is the nicest person you know:&lt;br /&gt;Do you go to for advice:&lt;br /&gt;Do you hate: &lt;br /&gt;Knows the most about you:&lt;br /&gt;Has it easier, guys or girls:&lt;br /&gt;Sends you the most emails:&lt;br /&gt;Would you love to play in a movie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHAT MAKES YOU?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Happy:&lt;br /&gt;Really Sad:&lt;br /&gt;Really Angry:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHAT ABOUT..?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School:&lt;br /&gt;Your friends:&lt;br /&gt;Being male/female:&lt;br /&gt;Life:&lt;br /&gt;What is something about you that nobody knows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ARE YOU...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rebel or do you follow all the rules:&lt;br /&gt;A leader or a follower:&lt;br /&gt;A good friend:&lt;br /&gt;A good listener:&lt;br /&gt;Shy or outgoing:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112848147950191370?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112848147950191370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112848147950191370' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112848147950191370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112848147950191370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/fun-questionnaire.html' title='Fun Questionnaire'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112847342345160007</id><published>2005-10-05T10:47:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-10-05T10:50:23.456+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Meaning of Ramadan</title><content type='html'>Today is the first day of the month of Ramadan!! YAY!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What is Ramadan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar; a month of fasting for practicing Muslims. Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset, and during those hours we do not eat or drink at all, whilst we monitor our behaviour so that we represent the behaviour of pious believers of Allah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why do we fast?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the month we are able to strengthen our discipline and our belief in Allah as well as remember the less fortunate people in the world (who often have food shortages). It is a month of seeking Allah’s mercy and forgiveness, and spending many nights at the mosque praying to Allah. During the month, we gain an even greater sense of love and closeness to our family and friends seeing that much of the month is spent inviting people over for dinner (‘iftar’), and being invited by others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him), said &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"Anyone who fasts during this month with purity of belief and with expectation of a good reward (from his Creator), will have his previous sins forgiven”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112847342345160007?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112847342345160007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112847342345160007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112847342345160007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112847342345160007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/meaning-of-ramadan.html' title='Meaning of Ramadan'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112840943202382150</id><published>2005-10-04T17:02:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T23:21:04.210+11:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dear Nana</title><content type='html'>Lying in her bed with her eyes glazed over staring up high, beyond the white hospital ceiling, and out into a place unknown to me, it was declared “I can see the Golden Gates of Paradise, and the beautiful gardens!!” by my critically ill grandmother yesterday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My “nana” has always been one of the strongest believers in God that I know, mentally strong, very sweet and giving, yet very tough and stern in her character at times. My nana, now lying there, I have observed to be even stronger in her belief than ever before, mentally delusional, still very sweet, yet perhaps even sterner in her character than I can remember. Her sternness I have learnt to love about this beautiful old woman, a woman who knows what she believes, and will not let anyone get in the way of that, even in her dying days. Her arms are now covered in dark purple and blue bruises from all of the poking and prodding of needles, whilst her sagging yellow looking wrinkly old skin shows the parting of the bone from the flesh without a muscle in sight. Her hands and fingers are strangely swollen, yet she is still able to lift her plump index finger from time to time whilst saying the ‘Shahadah’ (Declaration of Faith) in Arabic “Ash hadu anlaa ilaaha illallaahu wa ash hadu anna muhammadar-rasulallah" &lt;strong&gt;("I bear witness that there is no god except God and I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of God ").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nana has always been scared of death it appeared. She has always been very careful to make sure she is well dressed all year round, wearing several layers of mended clothing in order not to catch the flu or a common cold. With her woolen clothing layers and heavy blankets in winter, her regular flu injections and home-made apple cider and honey medicine, she was always well equipped for all that winter had in store for her. I tried explaining to her that the flu and colds can only be brought on by catching it off others, yet she always insisted that under-dressing is the cause of these problems. I found out the other day why she was always paranoid about keeping warm. When nana was very young she had no choice but to walk through dense snow covered roads on her way to school. With the severe icy weather, she caught a condition that weakened her heart, ultimately leading her to get a valve replacement in her heart in her days living in Australia. The revolutionary treatment in Australia at the time was said to expand ones life by 20 years. My nana is still alive 30 years after this surgery was performed. A miracle indeed. Nana was always paranoid about eating healthy, making sure to eat lots of fruit and vegetables, and red meat to keep her very low iron levels up. Whenever she would speak about death, she would cry. In fact, nana always cried a lot when it came to religion. Formerly being a very devout Lutheran Christian, and later on through choice, a very devout Muslim, tears would fill her little green eyes every time she mentioned Allah’s name. I do not know of anyone as strong as she is, in her faith. I always thought perhaps she was afraid of dying, but when death has approached her more recently, it seems she is very ready to face whatever comes her way. And honestly, InshAllah (God Willing) there is no reason for nana to be afraid, for she has performed the 5 major pillars in our religion, namely: 1. Her belief in the Shahadah, 2. Praying five times a day (everyday!), 3. Fasting the month of Ramadan, 4. Giving charity every year (she gave lots of voluntary contributions as well as assisted with the building of several water wells) and 5. Performing the pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nana taught me how to pray, she taught me several short prayers to recite in Arabic, one very long prayer also that I learnt whilst holding her hand as she walked me home from primary school, fought with another customer over a hot pink skirt she intended to buy for me (of course she won), was the one to sew my first set of hijabs when I secretly decided I would soon wear it, the one who always insisted I put on a “thick jumper” before I step out of the house, she formulated her own home-medicines to help cure my bad cough as a teenager, helped me with my German homework all throughout high school, taught me of how it was to live through WWII in Germany –how she originally thought Hitler was a good man (before he showed his demons), and how she narrowly escaped death by fleeing on the last cargo train to leave her town whilst she held onto snow covered logs for dear life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it is my nana’s time to go and leave us for a better place with “Golden Gates” and dark green gardens which she would admire so much (oh how she loves her gardens!), then may Allah make death approach her now, when she is in no pain, and she can go quickly and quietly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you nana, with all my heart. &lt;strong&gt;May Allah bless you always and forever. Ameen.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112840943202382150?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112840943202382150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112840943202382150' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112840943202382150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112840943202382150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-dear-nana.html' title='My Dear Nana'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112799678040831299</id><published>2005-09-29T15:16:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-09-29T22:27:02.596+10:00</updated><title type='text'>New beginnings</title><content type='html'>It is cold in here. If I glance to my right, through the vertical grey blinds I can catch a glimpse of the pale blue sky outside. The array of brightly coloured cars in the car park contrast with my quick yet comforting glance of nature. The green balloon that is hanging from a shelf to my right is now lightly swaying to the humming sound of the air-conditioning unit, moving left, right, left, in a rhythmic pattern. Why the air-conditioner is on, I do not know. It is a relatively cool day, and to prove this I am wearing a thermal top under my business shirt whilst a heater under my desk warms my feet until they turn pink. Each time my feet warm up too much, I swiftly turn the heater off, to find minutes later I am cold once again in which I turn the heater back on. This tends to be a reoccurring pattern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My desk is decorated with balloons of blue, yellow, orange, red and green as colourful streamers drape down into “U” shapes between each balloon. The reason for these items, which usually one would associate with a celebration, is to mark my placement into my new role, in this new company. New faces, responsibilities and challenges. This little welcoming gesture had me smiling on my first day, and now, weeks later, still has the same effect. It is the small things in this work place that I am appreciating the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm optimistic about this new job, after having spent a few years out of university in roles in which I could not stand. With my previous position, it got to the point where I had nothing to look forward to in the mornings when I dragged myself out of bed. Nothing except for lunch of course. When lunch alone motivated me to go to work, I knew I was in trouble. It was time to move on. And moving on I have...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112799678040831299?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112799678040831299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112799678040831299' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112799678040831299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112799678040831299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/09/new-beginnings.html' title='New beginnings'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112742329996542277</id><published>2005-09-23T07:07:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T07:08:20.036+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Runny Noses, Not A Tissue In Sight</title><content type='html'>This is a typical long winded story of mine, you may find it boring, but oh well...it makes me smirk all the same:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At my old work, it was mid-winter, and everyone had the sniffles because they were catching colds/flues. I emailed the Admin Manager asking her for tissues, and was shocked to see a reply of, "Sorry, our company does not supply employees with tissues". I was very angry at this point, and could not believe what I was reading (although I later found out it is quite common for organisations not to supply tissues). I emailed the HR Manager then, forwarding on the Admin Manager’s reply, and adding, "Isn’t it common courtesy to supply us with tissues, as you would toilet paper, computer paper, etc?" It is a common necessity. Anyway, the HR Manager replied, "No, sorry, we do not supply tissues to employees; you will have to bring your own in". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe what I was reading, and as this process was occurring, I let all of my colleagues know what was going on. They were annoyed, but happy to bring in their own tissues at this point. Because I was going on-and-on about this (okay, I was at a point in my career where I didn't want to be in that company any more!), my colleagues started a Tissue Fund for me, and they passed around a large envelope for all staff in our department to contribute some coins to go towards purchasing my team some tissues. The outcome was that they presented me with a tissue box, and I couldn't stop laughing at the situation, at their kindness especially; yet could not believe our employer could be so inconsiderate to the needs of their employees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story doesn't end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started a new job just recently, and noticed that I needed a tissue. I asked my colleague for one of his tissues, and he said, "Oh, I'll get you your own box...they have heaps of them somewhere around. I'll just go find you a box..". With that simple comment, it made my day. A company that FINALLY supplies its employees with tissue boxes. I contacted my ex-Team Leader and told him the joyous news, as he was the one to organise the Tissue Fund for me in my previous job. He was happy to hear this, but disappointed that his new job does not supply him with tissues!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The outcome: My nose is happy. I am happy. I go to work with a smile on my face as I have learnt to appreciate the simple things in life (even if it is a box of tissues!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112742329996542277?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112742329996542277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112742329996542277' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112742329996542277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112742329996542277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/09/runny-noses-not-tissue-in-sight.html' title='Runny Noses, Not A Tissue In Sight'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112739187996486338</id><published>2005-09-22T22:22:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T22:26:39.266+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Pimp my ride</title><content type='html'>I just got the weirdest anonymous comment to my last post! It was some person advertising (I think!) their website regarding pimping their ride!! haha. I deleted the comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my first comment in a while, and it's spam related. GRRR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh the joys of being an Internet nerd :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112739187996486338?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112739187996486338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112739187996486338' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112739187996486338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112739187996486338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/09/pimp-my-ride.html' title='Pimp my ride'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112738993523259630</id><published>2005-09-22T20:33:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-09-22T22:02:06.216+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangle your husband with it?</title><content type='html'>So the hijab (head scarf) tends to cause a bit of controversy it seems. Everyone has an opinion on it - even random women buying apples in our local fruit market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 3 years ago, I was buying fruit with my mum when an Australian lady said to my mum, "If I were you...I would get that head scarf and strangle my husband with it!". Yes, this random stranger felt the need to give my mum advice on how to handle her "oppressive" husband. She also knew the tips on how to get my mum locked up in jail. Over what? A husband, who in this lady's eyes was forcing my mum to cover her hair. Oh, the horror! The pain. One girrrrrrlfriend looking out for her fellow girlfriend! Well, yo, like lady...if you met my father, you wouldn't be saying that! My dad is the sweetest man on earth, and he would never have forced anything upon my mum. My mum seems to wear the pants in the relationship if anything! She chose to cover up as part of our religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe how people can be so rude. Or, rather, maybe she thought she was being helpful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I beg to differ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112738993523259630?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112738993523259630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112738993523259630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112738993523259630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112738993523259630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/09/strangle-your-husband-with-it.html' title='Strangle your husband with it?'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112532421399863289</id><published>2005-08-30T00:03:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T00:03:34.033+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Bronwyn Bishop - Headscarf Ban</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Wow! What has happened to "Multicultural Australia" ? I suppose the use of the term "freedom of speech" can now be heavily bolded in the minds of fellow Australians. Speak freely. Think later. That seems the entire craze right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bronwyn Bishop, New South Wales Liberal MP has recently caused a stir amongst Muslims, people of all faiths and people of no faiths (my prediction is, she probably belongs to the latter group). Ms Bishop, with her religious surname in tact has earned herself the right to have her own surname banned! I will now refer to her simply as, "Bronwyn". She doesn't deserve her surname.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bronwyn has called for a ban of the headscarf (hijab) in public schools. Poor Prime Minister, Mr John Howard was today left cleaning up Bronwyn's political mess by visiting a Muslim school as well as publicly stating "I don't think it's practical to bring in such a prohibition". The suggested ban was also said to be "ignorant and unAustralian" by Multicultural Affairs Minister John Cobb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just cut to the chase here. It would be impractical to implement such a ban. If you banned the headscarf, to be fair, you would also have to also ban: the Jewish skullcap (the yarmulke/kippah), prohibit Orthodox Jewish women from wearing head coverings (or wigs), Sikhs from wearing turbans, Christian nuns from covering their hair, common Christians from wearing the cross, monks that wear robes, and so forth. The list could go on forever! It is not easy to implement such a thing, particularly when not following that particular dress-code means that a person will be compromising with something that is compulsory in their faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many bad things going on in the world right now with so-called Muslims being fed up with the 'western world' and venting their anger out (apparently) "in the name of Allah (God)". And now it seems the lovely Bronwyn is giving extremists even more of a reason to be furious. Nice one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Australia has just recently had issues with Muslims not seen as assimilating in society with non-Muslims. Okay, well let's just say hypothetically that the ban on the hijab took place. What would happen? Firstly, Muslim parents would be outraged and they would either request for their child to take off the hijab (this is unlikely to happen), or they will remove their child from that public school. What happens then? The parents of that child after huffing and puffing will place their child in an Islamic school along with all of the other angry parents. The children of the angry parents will be very angry themselves and they will then most likely spend most of their time around fellow Muslims. What will this create? This will create a very narrow-minded upbringing for these Muslim children and provide them with very little time to assimilate with their fellow Australians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was brought up in a state school here in Victoria. Although I didn't wear the head scarf back then, there was no way near as much racism towards Muslims and not as many negative connotations. In other words, if I had wanted to wear the head scarf back then, it wouldn't have been as much of a big deal. Australia has moved from being racist against the Aboriginals (yes, unfortunately it is still occurring), then racist against the immigrant Europeans (post World War Two), later they were racist against the Asians - and then for a period everything appeared to sort of ease off. It seemed during the 1990's there was a huge push for "multicultural Australia" and all of that jazz.  All of a sudden, a lot of people from different cultures and different religions all felt like one big happy Australian family. And that is the way it should be! But then September 11 occurred in the U.S.A. The sensationalisation of the western media and their ongoing fascination with putting fear in the hearts of common people, with the idea that all Muslims are cave living turban heads that have nothing more to do with their lives than kill people, all of a sudden has caused the racists to turn their focus on the Muslims.  Just when Australia was progressing, we took one huge step back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bronwyn mentioned that she believes Muslim women are wearing the hijab “as a sort of iconic item of defiance”. I do understand that the hijab can be a bit of a slap in the face to some non-Muslims. They may see the fabric embedded with some sort of hidden printed text that we Muslims cannot see. Perhaps they believe the text is saying “Watch me rebel against your fashion norms”.  The definition of defiance is “…bold resistance to an opposing force or authority”. Sorry Bronwyn, that is not why we cover up. We cover up as requested by Allah (God) in the Quran. We do not wear the hijab because we are trying to prove a point to Australia. We do not believe we are superior, nor to we believe we are any different to our fellow Australians. At the end of the day, people of all faiths follow the same principals, namely: compassion and justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hijab is a compulsory practise for females in our religion. So Bronwyn, next time you see a Muslim lady, do not think she is actively rebelling against your Australian dress-code. Think of her as a woman of faith, a pious and patient sister who is an obedient follower of God and a person of high morals. If anything, a person with morals will only benefit society. Your racism on the other hand Bronwyn, will not.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112532421399863289?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112532421399863289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112532421399863289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112532421399863289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112532421399863289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/08/bronwyn-bishop-headscarf-ban.html' title='Bronwyn Bishop - Headscarf Ban'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112351430929611032</id><published>2005-08-09T01:18:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-08-09T01:33:11.453+10:00</updated><title type='text'>London Bombings</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Before my 6 week trek across Europe, it was suggested to me that I shouldn't wear my head scarf (hijab) yet rather opt for a bandanna or a hat instead. A close relative of mine (who is a non practising Muslim) told me not to cover my head up at all whilst saying "nobody will see you". I don't think she understands the point in wearing the hijab, so I replied by saying "God will see me". She clearly thinks I am wearing it for some other purpose. At that point, before the London bombings, I was contemplating what I should do – wear the traditional hijab or go for the undercover/incognito version. I was swaying more towards wearing my usual hijab that identifies me as a Muslim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks into my trip, the London bombings occurred. A few days after the London bombings I found out that an &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;old friend of mine, someone who I studied with at university, was one of the victims&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. He died one week later in hospital. Shock. Sorrow. Anger. That is what has happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time this old university friend saw me wearing the hijab. I had just been wearing it for one week. I was 19 years old. Never before have I ever received such a startled response. I simply said "hello, how are you?" and he almost did a back flip! He jumped in the air like he had just seen a ghost. I remember him mumbling his words, then apologising, saying that he didn't even know I was a Muslim so didn't expect for me to be wearing the head covering. Once I explained it was a part of my religion and I chose to wear it, he was happy. He then asked if I would still go to nightclubs wearing my hijab!! (not realising that I never went to nightclubs to begin with!). He must have just presumed that I went clubbing based on the fact that I was (am!) young, somewhat attractive and female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the start of my European trip, I thought the idea of wearing a phoney head covering was somewhat showing a weakness in my faith. Do I fear people or do I fear God more? I soon came to realise that posing those questions to myself won't do me any good. Of course I fear God more than people and InshAllah (God willing) my actions are for God alone. However God gave us a brain to think so thinking is what I did when I heard the horrid news about the London bombings on the 7th July. I received an sms from my sister telling me the news. At the time I was travelling and preoccupied with joyous moments of sheer relaxation. That warm feeling I had came to a halt at that very moment. The first thing I thought was "Oh please God, I hope it wasn't Muslims who did it!". The news came to me shortly after that, and yes, indeed it was some SO-CALLED Muslims who did it. The loss of any human life is a feeling that is indescribable but when you find out that it was a premeditated MURDER - and they are supposed to be of the same faith as you, the feeling is indescribably revolting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about at that point that I decided to opt for the phoney head covering idea. I stuck to all of the Islamic requirements yet was not as obviously a Muslim as I usually am. My hat and high neck covering would have looked to some as if I was overdoing the whole "sun protection" regime. My whole holiday I ended up wearing my undercover disguise, a disguise that sort of blended in with the western form of dressing. I am not ashamed to be a Muslim and I would never dream of concealing my identity. This holiday it seemed that I had no other option if I wanted to prevent any harm being inflicted on me by non-Muslims (especially seeing I was travelling by train a lot of my trip!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to take this opportunity to THANK those so-called Muslim London bombers. My so-called BROTHERS who have made TRUE Muslims all over the world look like we are criminals for following Islam. They were (so-called) Muslims brothers who somehow in their twisted minds thought that by murdering innocent people they were in fact performing good deeds! They were (so-called) Muslim brothers that have played a role in making life harder for their Muslim sisters (as if life wasn't already tough enough for us). They were (so-called) Muslim brothers that have added fuel to the fire in the west by making uneducated non-Muslims believe that this is what Islam promotes. They were (so-called) Muslim brothers that made me HIDE for the very first time in my life the fact that I am a Muslim (a PROUD Muslim at that).I want the world to know how beautiful Islam is and I want to be a shining example for Islam - showing non-Muslims what Islam is all about. I now shake my head in disgust at these so-called Muslims for once again ruining any chance for us to display the TRUE Islam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It says in the Quran (Chapter 5, Verse 31) that if someone murders an innocent person, &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"it would be as if he killed all mankind".&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; And in Islam, murder is one of the BIGGEST sins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May God (Allah) All-Mighty deal with these so-called Muslims justly. They will receive their punishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a fellow Muslim I believe that we truly need to identify these loonies in our societies. We need to be alert and aware and InshAllah (God willing) TEACH them the correct form of Islam before they get brain-washed by whoever it is that is brain washing them. Not a single true Muslim should ever agree with what they are doing. May Allah guide them InshAllah (God willing) and prevent any further unnecessary attacks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the old university friend of mine, I dearly am sorry for what happened to you. Nobody deserves a shorter life than intended. However, God has written our fate and any one of us could die this very minute. That is why, I, myself started practising religion at a young age. I wanted to make sure that if it was my time to go at a young age, I would be on the right track when it happened. I hope to God that my friend was on the right path before he passed away. It has been a few years since I saw him last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace always,&lt;br /&gt;VN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112351430929611032?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112351430929611032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112351430929611032' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112351430929611032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112351430929611032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/08/london-bombings.html' title='London Bombings'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-112343383504455970</id><published>2005-08-08T08:55:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T02:57:15.053+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Back from holidays!</title><content type='html'>Salaams (Peace!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now back from holidays and will InshAllah (God willing) write very very soon. There is so much to write and so little time (I still have to unpack and get my sleeping patterns in order).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all the comments on my last blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care&lt;br /&gt;VN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-112343383504455970?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/112343383504455970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=112343383504455970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112343383504455970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/112343383504455970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/08/back-from-holidays.html' title='Back from holidays!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-111931150536758875</id><published>2005-06-21T09:14:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-06-21T09:55:39.630+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Islamic Hatred</title><content type='html'>Okay, not long to go now before my holiday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just happened to stumble across a website though and was so disturbed by it that I thought I should discuss this. The site is: &lt;a href="http://www.islamreview.com/"&gt;http://www.islamreview.com/&lt;/a&gt; and it is based on a Christian group basically just mocking Islam without ANY proof. I read the guestbook where people are constantly bringing up false facts on Islam (ie. someone said men can marry an unlimited amount of servants!) .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never go around mocking other people's religions. Sure, I discuss religion with friends here and there &amp; find it interesting (although it doesn't necessarily mean I agree with them). I also tell them more about Islam as well as clear up any misconceptions they may have. But never do we EVER disrespect each other's religions in any way. That website did exactly that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of the people seem so afraid of Islam spreading and taking over the world that they feel they have to convert Muslims over to Christianity to "save them". They feel they are doing Muslims a favour. Well let me tell you - Muslims don't need converting &amp;amp; generally even if a Muslim is a non-practising Muslim, they will still never leave the fold of Islam (from what I have seen through various people). Deep down they are still believers. I was once approached by a lady (at a train station -- there is something with me and trains!!) who totally freaked me out. She came up and &lt;em&gt;whispered &lt;/em&gt;to me "Jesus is Saviour". I was so irritated by that because, well for &lt;u&gt;one&lt;/u&gt;, I'm not a fan of strangers whispering in my ear (even if I did have my headscarf protecting my ears from her), but &lt;u&gt;two&lt;/u&gt;, I don't appreciate total stranger "preaching" to me. I have no problems discussing religion but there are certain tacts that someone must take whilst approaching such a sensitive and personal topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Quran states, (2:256):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Let there be no compulsion in religion: Truth stands&lt;br /&gt;out clear from Error: whoever rejects evil and believes in God hath grasped the most trustworthy hand-hold, that never breaks. And God heareth and knoweth all&lt;br /&gt;things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These Muslim-haters that claim to be people of Faith should try promoting peace and tolerance rather than religious hatred. It is people like them that start wars. There is no compulsion in religion!! We are all "People of The Book" after all. Each to their own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, you cannot force religion upon anyone. And if these Christians from that website believe they are bringing Muslims closer to Christianity by blatantly lying about Islam then they have another thing coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In closing, a verse from the Quran, (10:99):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Wilt thou then compel mankind, against their will,&lt;br /&gt;to believe? No soul can believe, except by the Will of God....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May God bless you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-111931150536758875?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/111931150536758875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=111931150536758875' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111931150536758875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111931150536758875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/06/islamic-hatred.html' title='Islamic Hatred'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-111873222470669543</id><published>2005-06-20T16:51:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T14:18:01.820+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Time!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b160/veiledninja/germany.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b160/veiledninja/germany.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be most likely neglecting to write any blogs over the next few weeks as I am &lt;strong&gt;travelling&lt;/strong&gt; overseas for a holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am taking a diary/journal with me to jot down highlights of my trip so upon my return I will hopefully write some posts about my adventures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee I am finding it hard to concentrate at work. I am doing everything BUT working. I have so much to think about right now &amp;amp; so many last minute things to organise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard that once people come back from long holidays they find it hard to settle back into their normal routine lifestyle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling I will &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; recover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I am too easily distracted!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-111873222470669543?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/111873222470669543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=111873222470669543' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111873222470669543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111873222470669543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/06/holiday-time.html' title='Holiday Time!!!'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-111924079050344584</id><published>2005-06-18T13:40:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T14:22:23.803+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Wearing Hijab (Headscarf)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A Muslim female who wears the headscarf (&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;hijab&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;) is often stared at in western cultures. The stares we receive are not of a sexual nature, yet more of a curious nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will share some more information on my experiences with wearing hijab in my upcoming blogs. I decided to start wearing hijab 5 years ago and have experienced the most enjoyable years of my life ever since. I cover everything except for my face and hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now I will provide some background on what the hijab means and why Muslim females choose to cover up rather than ‘bare all’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;hijab&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is derived from the Arabic word &lt;em&gt;hijaba&lt;/em&gt; literally meaning to "hide from sight or view", and "to conceal". In English the word for hijab is the 'headscarf'. The appearance of a Muslim female is hidden so that her intelligence and mind are her main assets. It encourages men to respect pious women whose main focus is to worship God and obey His commands. She does not depend on her looks to get her places nor is she judged on her looks. Muslims believe that when they die they will take nothing with them except for their good &amp;amp; bad deeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many different versions of the hijab, yet mainly it covers a Muslim female's hair yet sometimes it includes covering ones face except for ones eyes (known as &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;niqaab&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hijab is worn so that Muslim females dress modestly and is a requirement of all Muslim females past the age of puberty. The Muslim holy book, the Quran states that females should dress in accordance with the hijab. Males are also required to dress modestly as well except they are not required to cover their hair (as their hair is not seen as 'attractive' as female hair is).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it is stated in the Quran: &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"O Prophet! Tell thy wives and thy daughters and the women of the believers to draw their cloaks close round them. That will be better, so that they may be recognized and not annoyed. Allah is ever Forgiving, Merciful."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; [33:59]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;To be continued.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-111924079050344584?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/111924079050344584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=111924079050344584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111924079050344584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111924079050344584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/06/wearing-hijab-headscarf.html' title='Wearing Hijab (Headscarf)'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-111669128443608382</id><published>2005-06-07T16:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-09-29T22:15:41.996+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Wacky Moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 140px; HEIGHT: 114px" height="132" src="http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b160/veiledninja/dinos.bmp" width="148" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have weird tendencies in this world and I never thought I would be one of them until I sat down and thought it through the other day. I guess everyone has their own lil issues - perhaps it is their insecurities, them being depressed or having mood swings, a warped sense of humour, emotional upsets and sometimes even just having too much spare time can bring out the wackiest in people. Sometimes superstitious beliefs may bring on what others would claim to be 'weird' rituals. Just take 'knocking on wood' as an example. Let's just hope one day the wood doesn't knock back at them. That will really freak them out. Maybe Michael Jackson started an epidemic because it seems weird tendencies are all the rage. And if it isn't weird tendencies that people have, it may just be moments of pure insanity, annoying habits they possess or irony that occurs now and then in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just catch a train on any line in Melbourne and you will see weirdness in all of its splendour. On my way to uni I seriously used to keep a tally in the front of my diary of how many weird people I would come across. Without fail, pretty much every day I would come across someone who was either doing or saying something extremely different to what one would say blends in with the 'norms of society'. What is it with trains though? Trains attract all walks of life. They walk, they are weird and boy oh boy are they wonderful. The weird and the wonderful come out to play. I used to claim that I hated catching trains however I think deep down I was always fascinated with my journey. The 'unknown' factor came into it with each ride. Whilst waiting on the platform in the morning I would secretly wait in anticipation for my train to pull up. Thoughts would rush through my head as to whom I would come across that day. My eyes would dart, palms sweat and head twitch in excitement. Well maybe not, however now that these days I am a non-train commuter (and now a disgruntled road-raging traffic hating environmentally damaging pollution making driver) I have more time to reflect and make it out that my train journeys used to be fun filled, dangerous and exciting. I guess they were in a way. Maybe my life is nowadays somewhat lacking the thrill of public transport. With that thought in mind, maybe I should catch a train into work tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As to my adventures on trains, I think the worst case I came across was a lady who was in a cult who was quoting Captain Cook and his discovery of Australia. She didn't stop there. She also asked me if I thought she was crazy because she could see "men in white trench coats". She decided to sit right next to me (she said she loved my uni bag), as her eyes literally rolled around in circles as she snapped in and out of consciousness. Hmm. My mother taught me an important lesson whilst catching trains. She told me to make sure that I got on carriages that had some females on it rather than an all-male carriage with me being the only female. That played through my head a fair bit. One day I was day dreaming (as usual) then looked around the carriage to find that I was the only female on that carriage. The men looked safe enough - not a piercing or tattoo in sight yet my mother's words &lt;u&gt;always&lt;/u&gt; outweigh any bright ideas that my mind is able to brew up. Thank you my dear mum for your sweet words but for the first time ever, I soon realised - &lt;u&gt;she was wrong&lt;/u&gt;. I changed carriages, jumping on a carriage where there were 2 females. The carriage contained just these 2 teenage girls, myself, and the sound of my heart pounding out of my chest. The girls were talking when I got on the carriage yet as soon as I sat near them they fell silent. I was looked up and down by these girls - they eyeballed the shoes I was wearing, my jewellery and my clothes. I knew they wanted to take something off me because their dirty eyes told me so. I then did the unthinkable (or the 'thinkable!') and went against my mother's words (God forbid!). I got up in a hurry and headed back to the carriage full of men where I felt safe and sound! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;There were also the many cases of people that enjoyed talking and even fighting with themselves. The sight of a one-man fight is something I would pay big money to see. It is extremely entertaining! Who needs to watch the movie Fight Club? Not me. Even if it does mean I miss out on seeing Brad Pitt, *sigh*. Trains are the real deal baby. Or the loud nutters that felt the need to introduce themselves to the whole carriage. They then went on to pick on some poor souls sitting and minding their own business. Constant questions were thrown at those poor buggers and out of sheer politeness each question was answered. It was a stranger bonding session at the least. No more stranger danger fears! These random get-to-know sessions made me feel like I knew these strangers better than I knew myself. Fortunately I wasn't picked on in that particular instance. In general though, it was like these people were drawn to me. "She looks like an easy target...why don't I sit myself next to her and rub some of my weirdness off on her?!". Well congratulations train people, it took a while but...&lt;strong&gt;Mission Accomplished&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I do have my own wacky tendencies, yet for the moment, I will keep those to myself :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-111669128443608382?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/111669128443608382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=111669128443608382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111669128443608382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111669128443608382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/06/wacky-moments.html' title='Wacky Moments'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13016734.post-111648002933860050</id><published>2005-05-21T15:39:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T16:39:37.876+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyes Wide Shut</title><content type='html'>&lt;img height="117" src="http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b160/veiledninja/womanpraying.bmp" width="70" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Welcome to my first post!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been wanting to write my thoughts down for so long now. I have finally decided to give this site a go. Besides the disgusting sound of "blogging" or "doin' a blog" or being a "blogger", this site seemed like a good alternative to pestering friends through long complicated emails or chatting everyone’s ears off once I come back from work in the evening. I guess this site is an alternative to people going to visit their psychiatrist. It is a cheaper alternative and most likely an alternative that will keep them more sane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I came across someone who had posted some fairly personal things about his life online (I will probably get to that stage soon). But he had mentioned something which saddened me. He told us of how he had given up on believing in God based on his previous heartbreaks and problems with women. He constantly blamed himself for the relationship going bad and then turned it around to blame God. I was saddened to read this but at the same time knew that whilst he was typing he was trying to 'convince' himself that God in fact did not exist. They were his raw thoughts on the topic. If he really didn't care about God he wouldn't have given the topic a second thought. It still got me thinking about atheists though and how they do not believe in a superior being above themselves. They associate themselves with having divine attributes and having power over their own destiny. But then when life doesn't turn out how they want it, don't they then wonder how much power they really possess? We start off weak as a baby, turn to strength later in life and later return to weakness at an old age. Weakness after strength the Quran says. I always wonder how people can neglect belief in God or at least neglect the thought process that should come naturally for most - Why am I alive? What is my purpose? Also the dreaded question that people find easier to neglect rather than come face-to-face with - What happens when I die? Often the question is just too puzzling for most hence it is avoided all together. The question is forgotten. Booze yourself up and perhaps the answer will come to you. Or drink away and perhaps you will 'lose yourself' for a while and not have to think. Not having to think is some people's solution. Those thoughts that perhaps came to them as a child or as they were developing and becoming the person that makes them the individual they are today soon would have disappeared as they grow older. Often the questions never get answered. It is easier that way, right? The whole "live for the moment" motto and "live each day as if it's your last". Nike even says it - "Just Do It". Sure, why not? Go ahead, do everything in your power to forget the whole reason for your existence. I guess most people are used to having an answer to all of their questions. Ask Jeeves, he's the main man. But then when people do sometimes decide to turn to religion they hit a brick wall because their questions are not always answered (or the answers they receive are not logical/practical/comprehendible). People get put off religion and then they fall into the group that says "I believe in God but don't follow a particular religion" or the group that claim "God doesn't exist" (these are also the people that like to point out that religion is the cause of all wars. Well congratulations for saying something original! not!). If they are a smart person perhaps they will "shop around" with the various religions and finally find one that most answers their questions...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is - most people do not believe. People would rather fumble through life and enjoy its amusements. But every soul will taste death because nobody is immortal. So, what does happen after we die? Some people ask me about religion and I was once asked about how I knew that my religion (Islam) was the truth. How do I know that I am not just wasting my life doing all of these acts of worship? Instead, I could be out "having fun", right? I could be filling my life up with all of these 'good deeds' for nothing and avoiding all of the bad stuff in life only to find that Islam wasn't the right religion after all. Or rather, I could just die and my soul will perish meaning all of these acts were pointless. Well the thing is, when you have found the truth, your soul just knows it. Just like when you deeply love someone, you feel it with every inch of your heart and soul - it is the same when you have found the truth to your existence, only everything is a lot more intense. So to answer the questions I was once posed, IF all of this 'belief' is just a waste of time (although I know that it isn't)- I would rather have spent my life like this rather than perhaps being a non-believer, spending my life cruising along and then dying and spend eternity in torment as a result! I would rather take a risk in missing out on drinking, clubbing and playin' rather than taking a risk with where I will spend eternity. Plus my life on this earth has so much more inner fulfilment. I LOVE LIFE because I know my life has a purpose. My purpose is to thank and worship God for Him having created me. And as a result of me simply performing this duty which I should do so naturally, God has promised me (as a believer) eternal paradise (I hope!). I owe God everything and God owes me nothing yet He will still reward me for my efforts. How beautiful is that? God is truly All Merciful. When your friend buys you a gift, you thank him..right? Well why not thank God who created you? He gave you life and will take your life. He gave you sight, hearing, taste, the ability to smell and touch. And if God didn’t make you, who did?? If it was the big bang theory, it must have been an amazing coincidence that all of the gases and molecules formed together to make a fully functional human being! A creation that does not need to assist himself to live. Everyone's heart beats on its own and your lungs inflate and deflate without your own assistance. Clearly something Greater than us has created all of this! If people want proof that God exists, they simply need to look around them at all walks of life and that is their proof just there. The trees, animals, water and the air we breathe are all signs for people who understand. No random explosion of gases could have created all of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13016734-111648002933860050?l=veiledninja.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/feeds/111648002933860050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13016734&amp;postID=111648002933860050' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111648002933860050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13016734/posts/default/111648002933860050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veiledninja.blogspot.com/2005/05/eyes-wide-shut.html' title='Eyes Wide Shut'/><author><name>Minime</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
