<?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-6124661</id><updated>2011-04-22T08:17:40.999+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Ramblings</title><subtitle type='html'>Social Commentary from the Boondocks. Now trying to be an author.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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>124</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115564401776794843</id><published>2006-08-15T20:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T20:13:37.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Routine</title><summary type='text'>So I haven't posted in a while. What does that mean?No. I'm still kicking.No. My computer rarely breaks down. You guys should know that.No. I'm not working any more. My attachment ended a month ago.Yes, school's started. Back to the sleep, wake up, eat, take train to school, attend seminar/lecture/tutorial, eat, take train back, prepare with readings for next seminar/lecture tutorial and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115564401776794843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115564401776794843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115564401776794843' title='The Routine'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115277040799898990</id><published>2006-07-13T13:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T14:00:08.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Great Story...</title><summary type='text'>Must find a good place to settle down.I'm moving the story away from here. All normal, routine postings will continue though.So stay tuned for my Random Ramblings.Link.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115277040799898990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115277040799898990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115277040799898990' title='Every Great Story...'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115223539520626512</id><published>2006-07-06T23:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T09:23:15.276+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bodies Everywhere</title><summary type='text'>Much can happen in a week. The Brazilians are out, the Germans are in the third place play off, and the Portugese got a taste of their own medicine. But hey, it's still going to be exciting, with a repeat of Euro 2000's memorable extra time showdown, David Trezeguet's extra time goal enough to help the French to their second major triumph in two years.That was a sidetrack, in case you didn't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115223539520626512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115223539520626512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115223539520626512' title='Bodies Everywhere'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115163090088275567</id><published>2006-06-30T09:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T09:28:20.896+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gracious Society? Not!</title><summary type='text'>In an ideal world, everyone would live in peace, there would be no crime, everybody would be happy and prosperous, and there would not be poverty and hunger.Sadly, it is not an ideal world we live in.But well, at least we try to make it an ideal world for ourselves. Capitalism and democracy are just some of the tools we employ to improve our lives.Note that I said our lives. Not the lives of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115163090088275567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115163090088275567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115163090088275567' title='Gracious Society? Not!'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115154528480826792</id><published>2006-06-28T21:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T09:43:03.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Aftermath Redux</title><summary type='text'>So I passed this week with flying colours. And I have a feeling that this story still has life in it yet! Expect parts to go up to 30-40. I know, I'm extreme, but well, having a computer in front of you is extremely productive, especially when you let your mind wander.Sidenote: The new LKC Reference Library (OK I know its not very new but I'm swakoo can?) offers a nice top-down view of the City </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115154528480826792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115154528480826792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115154528480826792' title='The Aftermath Redux'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115096379795910749</id><published>2006-06-22T00:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T16:09:57.990+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boom!</title><summary type='text'>I'm undergoing a 'Baptism of Dilbert', ie I'm trying to read all the Dilbert books/comics I can get my hands on.Also getting back to my bus roots. Thanks to the forums and sgwiki. Found out that people are actually way more into buses than I ever thought.Gonna start collecting pictures soon. =) Just a pity that I have no pictures of those old Leyland Atlantean double deckers from the 80s and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115096379795910749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115096379795910749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115096379795910749' title='Boom!'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-115033450954531131</id><published>2006-06-14T22:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T09:25:59.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>And so the Story goes...</title><summary type='text'>Well, it's up to part 13 already. And well, I'm getting it out of my system, and this seems to be a story that will last for quite a while yet, if I continue releasing a part a week. I'm aiming for 30 parts, and I'm left with 7 to get there (Yeah, I'm actually at part 23 already).As always, little talk, more story.Part 13 - City Center-------------------------Judy Lee opened the room door and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115033450954531131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/115033450954531131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115033450954531131' title='And so the Story goes...'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114977273315509377</id><published>2006-06-08T21:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T23:48:37.476+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sans Titre*</title><summary type='text'>Inspired, as always.Closing in on the ending, but well, just to whet your appetite, here's part 12.Part 12 - No Free Lunch-------------------------Joy Lee pulled up at the traffic junction and thought back to the carpark she had just left moments ago. Although all she got was a glimpse under the side lamps, she could distinctly recognize the illuminated face.It was the exact same face she saw in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114977273315509377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114977273315509377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#114977273315509377' title='Sans Titre*'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114899781450667960</id><published>2006-05-30T21:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T22:03:34.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pen Frenzy</title><summary type='text'>Suddenly the story has risen from the dead. From stalling at part 7 for close to 5 months and it's gradual recovery, I have now written up to part 14.I promise more action (Hope lah), and at least 20 parts.Meanwhile, enjoy part 11.Part 11 - Looks can be Deceiving------------------------It was unmistakeable. That nasal tone, the dripping sarcasm.It had to be him.Paula had had a brief but </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114899781450667960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114899781450667960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114899781450667960' title='Pen Frenzy'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114848028342318441</id><published>2006-05-24T22:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T22:18:03.450+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fake One</title><summary type='text'>No, the pics from yesterday ain't fake. I took them meself. Still got the damned parts even."Fake One" refers to the new part featured in today's post.Part 10 - Fake One (Damn singlish lar can.)------------------------Koo pulled the car into the lot just as the familiar Beetle came around the corner and into the car park. Both watched as the red cabriolet slipped quickly into the reserved lot, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114848028342318441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114848028342318441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114848028342318441' title='Fake One'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114839574621361640</id><published>2006-05-23T22:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T22:49:06.263+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheap don't mean Good</title><summary type='text'>So KR called me during my exams last month and asked me to help him build a custom PC. "Must be zai one ah." were his exact words. So after his exams and before my PA started, we went down to Sim Lim one evening to get the parts.Well, P4 systems these days come with huge cooling fans (Those chips generate lots of heat!) but KR wasn't too content with just the jumbo CPU fan, so he asked for </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114839574621361640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114839574621361640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114839574621361640' title='Cheap don&apos;t mean Good'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114787683323155362</id><published>2006-05-17T20:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-17T22:40:34.043+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Recollections &amp; Reflections</title><summary type='text'>Well, it looks like I can only write on a weekly basis, so I'll cut to the chase and hope you enjoy Part 9.And yes, I work at SMRT, and no, I don't drive the damn train or walk around telling people to get out of terminating trains and stuff. I work in the corporate office at City Hall.Enjoy Part 9 - Recollections &amp; Reflections-----------------------As Judy looked up, there was Joy, running past </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114787683323155362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114787683323155362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114787683323155362' title='Recollections &amp; Reflections'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114727325739964682</id><published>2006-05-10T21:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T23:00:57.573+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It ain't over till the fat lady sings</title><summary type='text'>Surprise! The story lives on.Find out what happens to Paula, Jane, Craig and his partner Koo.And Carrie ;).I've got outlines for the next three parts, and I hope it'll have you sitting at the edge of your seats.Heh.Enjoy Part 8 -------------------------Craig lay prone on his back, totally exhausted again by Paula's remarkable stamina. The night had seemed to go on forever, as even with his </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114727325739964682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114727325739964682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114727325739964682' title='It ain&apos;t over till the fat lady sings'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114610245568888233</id><published>2006-04-27T09:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T09:47:35.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre-Exam Preparation</title><summary type='text'>Note to self: GO GO GO! Final Stretch!Continuing the trend of boring and useless posts I've been making up in this "exam series", here's another, barely 4 hours before it starts.I'm good, ain't I? (chokes on my own puke.)Oh heck. 7 hours to freedom, at least for a week (Which includes two weekends. How convenient.)You Are 40% EvilA bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well.In some </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114610245568888233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114610245568888233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114610245568888233' title='Pre-Exam Preparation'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114597849871304245</id><published>2006-04-25T23:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T10:11:53.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sesame Street For Adults</title><summary type='text'>Check out "Stinky the Grump" on this cool sesame street clip.Ah, the truths it tells.If you can't see it there, click here.And look out for "The Lord Of The Drink". I promise, its coming.Cheerios.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114597849871304245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114597849871304245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114597849871304245' title='Sesame Street For Adults'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114545063927896764</id><published>2006-04-19T20:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T20:43:59.336+08:00</updated><title type='text'>iTunes Oracle (Or whatever music player lah...)</title><summary type='text'>Owing to the intense boredom leading up to tomorrow's paper (one week of revision and I still don't get the bloody picture), I decided to try this out for want of a better thing to do. (Ripped off from here.)Instructions: Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.How </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114545063927896764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114545063927896764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114545063927896764' title='iTunes Oracle (Or whatever music player lah...)'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-114519261896163999</id><published>2006-04-16T21:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T21:03:40.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Revival in progress...again.</title><summary type='text'>Well, with regards to the Jan 23 post, I announced an indefinite hiatus.I'm back.And as a test of my "resilience" (bleh!) I'm going to write a new story. Ok, its been cooking in my brain for quite a while now, but well, it's going to replace the current story that has stopped at part 7.If I'm inspired, I'll continue that one.Anyway stay tuned. I'll be back very very very soon.I promise.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114519261896163999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/114519261896163999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114519261896163999' title='Revival in progress...again.'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113803150321698022</id><published>2006-01-23T23:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T23:51:43.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going on Hiatus</title><summary type='text'>If you havent already noticed, I've not posted for so long it seems like I've just lost interest again.Well, sorry, you're wrong. I'm still alive and I'm still in pursuit of my dreams.But well, dreams have to take a back seat to academic pursuit.So I'm announcing a hiatus until I've settled down more and am more comfortable with the workload.But, so as to not let you, the reader, down, I'm </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113803150321698022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113803150321698022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html#113803150321698022' title='Going on Hiatus'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113569832877432753</id><published>2005-12-27T23:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T23:45:28.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeping With The Enemy</title><summary type='text'>I got a little complacent over the Xmas period, what with the results released and timetable planning and all that shit. So enjoy part 6 - sleeping with the enemy.Merry Belated Xmas!-------------------------The food started arriving as the four old friends started catching up on lost time. Various incarnations of the evergreen roti prata filled the table, along with various other dishes. Carrie </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113569832877432753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113569832877432753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113569832877432753' title='Sleeping With The Enemy'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113457339331689337</id><published>2005-12-14T23:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T23:16:33.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zooked-Out!</title><summary type='text'>Ok, its a spoof of the party name.I know I'm uncreative, but well, words just came and I just wrote.Enjoy!Part 5 - Zooked-Out!-------------------------Jane made some polite talk, and then excused herself, leaving the two “new friends” to get better acquainted. She knew how Paula operated, and guessed it would not be too long before they went off someplace. As she left, she winked and grinned at </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113457339331689337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113457339331689337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113457339331689337' title='Zooked-Out!'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113431659395112547</id><published>2005-12-11T23:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T23:56:33.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Looks Can Deceive</title><summary type='text'>Looks like readership is increasing, so I've formulated a new part while idling away and reading my favourite books.Do enjoy, and as always, comment if u want to see something/suggest ideas/give me ideas.Cheerio!Enjoy part 4 - Looks Can Deceive.-------------------------Craig left the camp at 6.10pm and started on his journey home. The roads were congested, as usual, and as traffic slowed to a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113431659395112547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113431659395112547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html#113431659395112547' title='Looks Can Deceive'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113319295860937302</id><published>2005-11-28T23:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T23:49:18.676+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blown Away</title><summary type='text'>Exams over, nothing to do.So write story lor.Part 3 - Blown Away-------------------------The blood red digits of the timer read 00:30 in the illuminated darkness.00:2900:28........Craig had seen enough. The clumsy suit was hindering his movement, but the days of training he and his team had been put through was now paying dividends. With barely 8 seconds to spare, he emerged into the light, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113319295860937302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113319295860937302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113319295860937302' title='Blown Away'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113232627755773660</id><published>2005-11-18T22:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T23:04:37.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Brightest Night</title><summary type='text'>Two weeks is way too long a time, and since I've fed myself full of the theories of Company Law, I've also concocted a new idea for part 2 of my story. And since I'm giving myself a break, here's it for everyone else to enjoy and take a short reprieve. =)Part 2 - The Brightest Night-------------------------The limiters were unlocked, for the emergency at hand was an urgent one, one which could </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113232627755773660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113232627755773660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113232627755773660' title='The Brightest Night'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113138212181910204</id><published>2005-11-08T00:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T00:48:41.883+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Glass Rain</title><summary type='text'>Exam fever's just beginning to take over, so before I get consumed by the flames, it's time to let go, with a blasting new story starring of all people, Craig. Enjoy.-----------------------The massive delivery entrance rolled open, revealing the cavernous interior of a warehouse-like storage area. Lorries loaded with stage, sound and light equipment, as well as costumes and props, backed in one </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113138212181910204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113138212181910204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113138212181910204' title='Glass Rain'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113091631966736046</id><published>2005-11-02T15:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T15:25:19.680+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fresh New Look!</title><summary type='text'>Right. I felt too free yesterday after stuffing my face with 11 lectures' worth of notes. So I decided, on a whim, at 12am, to try and retrofit a new template and skin. Such is the result of 2 hours of looking and picking at the code, and its still got some bugs I need sorted out. Anyway, I am thinking of renaming this blog, anyone would like to give me some suggestions? Its like after I started </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113091631966736046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113091631966736046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_archive.html#113091631966736046' title='A Fresh New Look!'/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113047990327981236</id><published>2005-10-28T14:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-28T14:11:43.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Temporary ReprieveYes, there will be no more stories for now. At least not within this week anyway. Thanks for all your kind support, all who have read and followed the series, and I hope the next story in the pipeline will continue to receive such an excellent response.Just to whet your appetite, this is how the next story might go.Craig, a rebellious kid in his youth, has matured and seeks to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113047990327981236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113047990327981236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#113047990327981236' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113008473339080483</id><published>2005-10-24T22:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T22:33:01.996+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The End Of An EraEnjoyed the teaser?Yes. It's finally here. The time has come for Martin, Joey, Carrie and Pam to say goodbye. :) I present to you, dear reader:Part 20 - Goodbye for Now.-----------------------"So well?""No. We're not an item."Carrie noticed Martin sneaking a quick look at Joey, who remained expressionless."Yes, we're mutually exclusive." Joey piped up."Ok." Carrie felt </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113008473339080483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113008473339080483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#113008473339080483' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-113008520628473787</id><published>2005-10-24T00:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T00:33:26.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Preview.Guess what, Part 20 is almost done. But well, here's a little teaser to get you all going.---------------------------Martin led the way as Joey and Carrie straggled along behind, giggling and chattering about their latest clubbing experience. Carrie had decided to join her best friend in hitting the clubs, for she had also chosen her future path, and had not told any of them. She was </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113008520628473787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/113008520628473787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#113008520628473787' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112982729142219096</id><published>2005-10-21T00:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T00:54:54.586+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The ResemblanceThe title says it all, doesn't it? I'm getting predictable. :PEnjoy Part 19 - The Resemblance.------------------------Martin stood at the bus stop outside the gates, waiting for Joey to show up. He was sweating nervously, this being one of the rare times he was going out after school, and with such a hot babe too. Strangely enough, his friends had not been teasing him like they had</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112982729142219096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112982729142219096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#112982729142219096' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112921960608963360</id><published>2005-10-14T00:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T00:06:46.126+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Confused MemoriesAfter some gentle edging, creative juices have returned, plus I watched Random Hearts and finished Sputnik Sweetheart. So here goes, Part 18 - Confused Memories.-------------------------Pam lay fast asleep on the bed, the soft quilt covering her long swept away by her violent kicking. The sun was obscured by rain clouds, and the light curtains hanging over her window were enough </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112921960608963360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112921960608963360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#112921960608963360' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112887273408148283</id><published>2005-10-09T23:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T23:45:34.183+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Crazy TimesNow that I've finalized plans to finish off this story in favour of a new tale, I've been hit with a whole new wave of inspiration. So, ahead of my vital presentation tomorrow, I bring you one step closer to the end of this saga. Here's Part 17 - Crazy Times.-------------------------(Three Years Ago)Sam never felt more nervous in her life. It was the first time she was going to meet </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112887273408148283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112887273408148283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#112887273408148283' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112739467926723365</id><published>2005-10-02T23:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T23:32:54.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Inpenetrable ScabAwright, I've finally become inspired enough and with some spare time on my hands, here goes for part 16!Part 16 - The Inpenetrable Scab-------------------------Pam downed the remainer of her second Heineken and set the green glass bottle on the metal table. The projector was showing a live football match, and in the crowded pub, around the silent couple, were football fans </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112739467926723365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112739467926723365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html#112739467926723365' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112730815873749320</id><published>2005-09-21T20:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-21T21:09:18.743+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>On This Day-------------------1792: Monarchy abolished in France.1866: H.G. Wells, author of The War Of The Worlds, is born in Bromley, England.1938: The Great New England Hurricane rips into Long Island and southern New England, killing 600.--------------------1983: I was born.--------------------On this day, 2005:Thanks to the brotherhood, it was a good time we had at TCC and then Cabana at ECP</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112730815873749320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112730815873749320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112730815873749320' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112653708518312298</id><published>2005-09-12T21:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T01:36:32.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Memories Of A Lost TimeYes, it sounds cheesy, but well, the title just seems apt to me at this early hour. If you've noticed, all my writing has been done after 10, but I'm doing it at an unusually early hour today. Sorry, all my readers. I know its taken way too long. But I really needed to think hard and I had to take a quiz last week.Oh, and Joline, you're right. It's from experience. ;)Part </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112653708518312298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112653708518312298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112653708518312298' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112559198102134482</id><published>2005-09-02T00:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-02T00:26:21.070+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A New ArrivalAh...after much procrastinating and pissing myself off, I'm ready with part 14. What happens to the triangle? Will it become more complicated?Read On!-------------------------School days always seem to last forever, and that was what all three girls felt as they attended their friday lessons. Chemistry lab bored the socks out of them, although Martin was fooling around with the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112559198102134482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112559198102134482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html#112559198102134482' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112481637834801055</id><published>2005-08-23T23:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T00:59:38.390+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Return To InnocencePart 13 is here at last! It took a long time coming...but that's cos I was busy :)Enjoy!-------------------------Pamela ran through the long and sterile-white corridor, click-clacking on the borrowed pair of heels. The nurse at the ward counter gave her an icy glare as she tried to enquire if someone fitting Joey's description had passed by, and gave a cutting, negative reply </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112481637834801055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112481637834801055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112481637834801055' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112411781638406822</id><published>2005-08-16T00:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-16T00:10:32.023+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Released TensionsFirst, I'd like to say hi and thank you to all following the story so far. Thanks for the support and the comments, its helped me come up with ideas I never would have had if not for your suggestions and opinions. No, the story isn't ending, yet. It will end soon, and well, until then, enjoy whatever is left :)Part 12 - Released Tensions-------------------------Pamela lay prone </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112411781638406822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112411781638406822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112411781638406822' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112386576120398774</id><published>2005-08-13T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-13T00:56:01.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Only Way Is UpWell, I added one of those Flickr thingeys at the side. Hopefully I can post more photos soon, when I have the time.Here's Part 11. Enjoy!-------------------------The headlights illuminated the dark sandy path toward the beach. Martin and Carrie heaved an unconscious Pamela along the sand and towards the car, while Joey forged ahead to get the doors open.Earlier, they'd wrapped </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112386576120398774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112386576120398774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112386576120398774' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112360468195904107</id><published>2005-08-09T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T00:29:19.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Saved!Happy National Day!Part 10 beckons. And I'm not stopping...yet. =)Enjoy!-------------------------"Go faster, Martin! Faster!""I am! I am!""Come on, who're you kidding?! Your speedometer shows 85kmh!""...its a 90kmh zone!""Dammit! We're gonna lose them!""All right all right!"Martin pressed harder on the accelerator as the auto transmission dropped a gear, feeding more power to the engine. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112360468195904107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112360468195904107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112360468195904107' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112325954338948505</id><published>2005-08-06T00:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-06T00:37:03.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Darkness ReignsI've seen so much support for a story I thought would never see the light of day, that it's been such a fun journey, even until today. Enough of blabbering, here's Part 9 - Darkness Reigns.------------------------Joey lay down on her comfortable bed, thinking about what Pamela had said. Would she really carry out her threat? Hugging the soft toy Carrie had given her for her last </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112325954338948505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112325954338948505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112325954338948505' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112324270848152909</id><published>2005-08-05T19:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T19:51:48.486+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A New Home For StoriesI've started another site, similarly on Blogger, for the past editions of my stories. I've titled and named them, so its much easier to search and read them. Go here to see it: A Random Twist In The Tale.Stay tuned for Part 9, which is already underway and should be complete tonight.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112324270848152909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112324270848152909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112324270848152909' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112308845211517885</id><published>2005-08-04T13:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T01:00:52.153+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Letting GoPart 8 which I posted on Monday just does not live up to my own standards, so, I've decided that there will be a new part 8. The previous one will be removed, but it will still be available if you ask me. But don't, cos it does suck quite badly!Enjoy the new part 8, titled Letting Go.------------------------Day had turned into night. Carrie and Martin sat opposite a sobbing Joey, who </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112308845211517885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112308845211517885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112308845211517885' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112291088144767202</id><published>2005-08-01T23:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T01:03:55.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Crash and BurnWith some breathing space after a "hectic" 11-hour day at school, here's part 8. Enjoy!-------------------------- This version of part 8 has been removed. Contact me if you want to read it. -  -------------------------I apologize if part 8 failed to live up to expectations. I promise a better showing for part 9. Do leave some comments/feedback so I can improve. Thanks!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112291088144767202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112291088144767202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_archive.html#112291088144767202' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112239610062700088</id><published>2005-07-27T00:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T00:41:40.676+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Re-EmergenceI've become a fanatic of my own creation! AHHH! Enjoy part 7, folks!-----------------------Martin grasped the package tighter in his hands. The pictures inside had just revealed a secret two people had been trying, one harder than the other, to keep. The fifteen-minute wait for Carrie to finish her last class of the day seemed like ages. Martin had kept what he had saw to himself, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112239610062700088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112239610062700088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112239610062700088' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112222402243240506</id><published>2005-07-25T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T00:56:09.090+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>DiscoveryAll right, all ye voyeurs, here's part 6. Sorry it took longer than expected, I've been busy reconstructing my room and finishing up my last two days of work.Enjoy!-------------------------"You know Joey, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen.""Really? ...But I think we shouldn't be doing this...""Do you...fancy me?""I do, but...""Why should there be any more 'buts'? We belong </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112222402243240506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112222402243240506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112222402243240506' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112187125990666192</id><published>2005-07-20T22:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T22:54:19.920+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Stillframe SurpriseI've always been quite fond of taking pictures, and once I was in the photographic society. It didn't last long, but at least I had the experience of handling a Single Lens Reflex or SLR camera, and I've longed to have one since then. Anyways, the title of today's part 5 is just that, Stillframe Surprise, and here it is. Enjoy, folks.-------------------------Martin’s friends </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112187125990666192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112187125990666192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112187125990666192' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112165223603178218</id><published>2005-07-18T10:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T10:03:56.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Acting The GoatIn case you're wondering, no, this isn't a title for the next part of the story. I've decided that a break is in order, so the next part, where nothing will be revealed in this post (actually I have only a rough idea, suffering from writer's block again!) will be coming to you in about three days to a week.I don't really know what you readers read during your childhood days, but I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112165223603178218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112165223603178218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112165223603178218' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112143834278589035</id><published>2005-07-15T22:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T22:39:02.836+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The A-P-I WayThanks to an earlier discussion with Cher, here's part 4 of the saga. Enjoy!-------------------------Martin thought back to the encounter with Joey at the library. She looked really troubled, he thought. But she's interested in psychology, and that makes it one thing in common between us! Little did he know what the real deal was as he settled down happily and flipped the pages of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112143834278589035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112143834278589035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112143834278589035' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112127292698974850</id><published>2005-07-14T00:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-14T00:42:07.023+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>TendenciesAnd the saga continues.------------------------After that meeting, Martin couldn't get her out of his dreams at night. He dreamt that they were together, happy and carefree as birds flying high in the sky.And then the alarm clock would ring and shatter the pretty little picture.***Across the island, covered in a pink comforter, Joey tossed and turned. She had been having dreams like </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112127292698974850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112127292698974850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112127292698974850' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112127153519177948</id><published>2005-07-13T23:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-14T00:18:55.230+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hybrid Theory and Convocation EncountersWan is, today, a graduate from NTU. After an arduous 14 years, no doubt. I was privileged enough to have the opportunity to attend the ceremony and well, I realised one thing: to get applause, you have to either be, in order of merit:1. The Big Shot of the day2. Speech giver/distinguished guest3. Multiple prize winner4. Last person to get the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112127153519177948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112127153519177948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112127153519177948' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112117858365678069</id><published>2005-07-12T22:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T22:29:43.663+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The First MeetingYes, this is the continuation. Credit to bro WR, who wanted to see a first meeting. So here it is. Enjoy y'all.------------------------Martin walked slowly. He had just got off work and was now headed to the train station, looking forward to a relaxing hot shower and then completing his assignments for the week before turning in.“Excuse me, sir, can I take a minute of your time?”</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112117858365678069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112117858365678069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112117858365678069' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112075550300568684</id><published>2005-07-08T00:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T00:58:23.063+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dear DiaryToday's title has dual significance. I was clearing clutter in my room today in anticipation of the mess that will take over tomorrow when the windows are changed, and I came across this little book that used to be the center of my primary 6 world. Remember those damned little autograph books where your friends would write stuff like:"Bird fly high,  in the sky,  friend like u,  hard to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112075550300568684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112075550300568684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112075550300568684' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-112045725864080921</id><published>2005-07-04T14:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T14:09:17.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Paint A Mental PictureAfter my short short holiday on the friendly shores of our northern neighbour, I'm home. Yes, I was home like 4 days ago, but well, I was ill, so I could hardly post and expect to be even coherent.Like all good kiasu Singaporeans who are also equally cheapo, once we hit KL we straightaway went shopping. Yes, shopping. Obviously because KL is pretty much an urban jungle and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112045725864080921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/112045725864080921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_07_01_archive.html#112045725864080921' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111969668222443664</id><published>2005-06-27T19:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T19:54:54.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There's Gotta Be More To Life"Than chasing every temporary high." So sang Stacie Orrico in the song (There's Gotta Be)More To Life. Interestingly, there really is. After watching Harold &amp; Kumar Go To White Castle, I realise that even more. Why so? Go watch the movie and find out. I highly recommend comedy fans who love to laugh to watch this show. :)Oh, and a continuation of the story.-----------</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111969668222443664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111969668222443664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111969668222443664' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111935076774202798</id><published>2005-06-21T18:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-21T18:53:59.373+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Real Story, at Last...Riiiiight. Last time around, I wrote "The Reunion". You'd have to say that it blew some people away. So much so that I've had to remove it, culminating in the last post. This time though, the story is purely fabricated. My very own fairytale. And yes, there are no "purely coincidental" incidents this time.Oh, bro WR, if you read this, great last post, and thanks for the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111935076774202798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111935076774202798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111935076774202798' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111916749801246481</id><published>2005-06-19T15:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T15:51:38.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Private Space That's Not So Private, After AllI've come to realise that, after placing a counter on my blog, I'm not rambling to myself and a selected audience after all. In fact, some people have graced my space with their presence and I thank you, dear sir or madam, for taking the time to read my rubbish. That leads me to today's point, that the blog is really not that private after all.It </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111916749801246481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111916749801246481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111916749801246481' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111897729060019581</id><published>2005-06-17T10:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-17T11:01:30.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Be a Nice Customer, Please? (aka 28 Days Later)Doing my usual morning routine of blog-hopping, I kinda stumbled upon bro WR's archives links and ended up reading this post: Meditations Over Italian Food. I never really understood it then, not having held a sales position, ok, a frontline sales position before. The only jobs I had involved the backroom work, thankless as it is, you didn't really </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111897729060019581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111897729060019581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111897729060019581' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111892561529612862</id><published>2005-06-16T20:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T20:40:15.303+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Kiasuism ComplexLiving in this island state has definitely honed my senses for quick attacks on certain things not to be missed out upon. For example, going for a sale to grab the last t-shirt, just so that I can smirk at the poor fella who was one step behind. Or maybe rushing into the MRT train just so that I can sit down and grin at the middle-aged auntie who wanted to rush in too, but was</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111892561529612862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111892561529612862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111892561529612862' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111864250207899879</id><published>2005-06-13T14:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T01:59:46.733+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Reunion***Updated***For those who have read this post, good for you. For those who have missed it, I have been asked to remove the post, and hence I'm doing it out of goodwill. Sorry if you've missed it. Do stay tuned and I'll post more stuff when I'm free.Thanks for the support.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111864250207899879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111864250207899879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111864250207899879' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111832202555343040</id><published>2005-06-09T20:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T21:00:25.583+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Come Fly With Me-------------------------Quand il me prend dans ses bras,Il me parle tout basJe vois la vie en rose,Il me dit des mots d'amourDes mots de tous les jours,Et ça me fait quelque choseIl est entré dans mon cœur,Une part de bonheurDont je connais la cause,C'est lui pour moi,Moi pour lui dans la vieIl me l'a dit, l'a juréPour la vie.Et dès que je l'aperçoisAlors je sens en moiMon cœur </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111832202555343040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111832202555343040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111832202555343040' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111814800210451400</id><published>2005-06-07T20:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-07T20:40:02.110+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>J-J-Jaded (aka Humans are creatures of Habit)Its just weird that I haven't felt this way for such a long time. Such a long time. It was rarely hard being alone in the past, and now, its just difficult. Wan has gone back home, so i won't be seeing her for a month. That probably explains why I feel so jaded right now.Sure, I get to watch all my F.R.I.E.N.D.S dvds. Sure, I get to read all my books </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111814800210451400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111814800210451400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111814800210451400' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111771199129289135</id><published>2005-06-02T19:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T19:33:11.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Masks We WearWe all put up a facade, no matter who we are with. I mean, who truly knows what's inside of you?An average person will have a different "mask" for every group he/she interacts with. Only when alone will he/she be his/her true self. It is not easy to read a person from outside; only when you know what's inside will you truly understand a person.Food for thought: how many times </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111771199129289135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111771199129289135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html#111771199129289135' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111746154860765433</id><published>2005-05-30T21:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T21:59:08.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Money Is The Root Of All IllsFelt compelled to write about money after I watched this TV programme on channel 8. Perhaps the portrayal is slightly exaggerated, but frankly, I can say that it happens all the time in real life, albeit a little more restrained and less dramatic. Yes, I am of the opinion that money is the root of all ills. Definitely.Of course, money was invented as a form of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111746154860765433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111746154860765433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111746154860765433' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111720885148240071</id><published>2005-05-27T23:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T23:47:31.496+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Customer Is Right and The Manager Is WrongYet another post on experiences on the shopfloor in Robinsons. Yes, I know, its supposed to be social commentary, but well, its related. Definitely. Straight from what we like to call the University of Life, School of Social Mannerisms and Operations. :)  After a week of employment, I hope I am fit to comment on the systems I have seen applied in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111720885148240071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111720885148240071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111720885148240071' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111694622267128063</id><published>2005-05-24T22:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T22:50:22.713+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Day in The Life of a Pants PromoterFor the heck of it, I'm going to try and make my mundane life at Robinsons sound interesting for your sake. :)Going to make it look like some J.A.G. remake. Haha.HomeMay 22, 2005 Sunday0800 hrsWake up, and head off to the toilet. No breakfast on the table so just read the papers and then shower and change up.0845 hrsRush like hell out of the door, thinking I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111694622267128063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111694622267128063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111694622267128063' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111677483110486536</id><published>2005-05-22T23:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T23:13:51.120+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"That's How They Sell Pants!"Well, the previous post did a load of good. I'm now employed, yes, employed, as a promoter (glorified term for cheapo part-timer salesman) for pants, at Robinsons. Yes, THE Robinsons at Centrepoint. Impressive, considering besides Eve, who recommended the job to me, all the rest are seasoned salespeople. Considering that I don't have any sales experience, I'm pretty </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111677483110486536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111677483110486536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111677483110486536' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111647850358253458</id><published>2005-05-19T12:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-19T12:55:32.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dragged Kicking and ScreamingOk, I'll probably sound like an asshole here, but its just something I gotta let off my chest.My parents want me to go to Perth with them to visit an aunt who's living there, but I don't want to.Pissed at my "stupidity", my "irreverence", my "apparent disrespect for family values"? Well, don't. At least listen to what I have to say first.To whoever who's heard, yes, I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111647850358253458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111647850358253458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111647850358253458' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111625541100987196</id><published>2005-05-16T22:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T22:56:51.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Unemployment BluesYou've guessed it.Two weeks after school has broken up, I'm still unemployed. An unskilled worker with no job to go to. That equals no hope of fulfilling my wants. :)Yeah yeah, I know I shouldn't be moaning about not having a job. Hundreds of graduates are probably cursing at this undergraduate here who's looking for part-time work. Well, I say nah to you. By actually putting </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111625541100987196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111625541100987196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111625541100987196' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111591582163124705</id><published>2005-05-13T00:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T00:37:01.690+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Topsy-TurvyI first encountered the term "topsy-turvy" when I was still a kid, reading those cute little "Mr. Men" books. There was Mr Perfect, Mr Messy, Mr Funny, Mr Tickle, and whatnot. Of course, there was Mr. Topsy-Turvy. Now, Mr Topsy-Turvy was of course quite normal, except for one thing, he did everything upside down from usual, like having his furniture placed upside down, his hat on </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111591582163124705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111591582163124705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111591582163124705' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111578296285738188</id><published>2005-05-11T11:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T11:44:11.950+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Decided to be a little relaxed for once in posting, so here's what my birthdate actually means!Your Birthdate: September 21Being born on the 21st day of the month (3 energy) is likely to add a good bit of vitality to your life.The energy of 3 allows you bounce back rapidly from setbacks, physical or mental.There is a restlessness in your nature, but you seem to be able to portray an easygoing, "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111578296285738188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111578296285738188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111578296285738188' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111574703316241375</id><published>2005-05-11T01:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T01:43:53.203+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Divine InterventionAfter reading Alvin's and then Pope's opposing takes on the existence of miracles, I feel that its time I said my piece. Well, I've always been quite a firm believer of miraculous occurences. For the record, I have not found that I should dedicate my life to a certain religion, although I do go to a buddhist temple to pray during the festivals. As WR said, we can learn from </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111574703316241375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111574703316241375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111574703316241375' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111564431523062352</id><published>2005-05-09T21:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-09T21:11:55.260+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Was I ever such an irritant?"We've all been through that phase where "unity is strength". You know, hanging out in huge groups and making noise like there's no tomorrow. Yes, we all need to belong somewhere, and somehow the barbaric way of creating a din to scare away the ghosts of loneliness seems to prevail in the civilised world today. But, I just wonder, were we really so irritating it drove</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111564431523062352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111564431523062352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111564431523062352' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111547117780585712</id><published>2005-05-07T21:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-07T21:06:17.826+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A little sideline here. I've been kinda busy with helping wan shift out of hall and helping her cope with the reality that life in the corporate world is upon her so I've been kinda tired out and have had no time to blog. So here's today's piece, formulated one fine morning while I was in the throne room doing the usual business while flipping through the morning's &lt;&lt;Life!&gt;&gt;.There's No Business </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111547117780585712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111547117780585712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111547117780585712' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111521991394967503</id><published>2005-05-04T23:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T23:35:17.576+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday's topic was taken and analysed by a close pal of mine, WR. Below is the link to his insights on Madness and Deviance, do take a look see because it offers a more down-to-earth view on a Singaporean perspective.WR's take on MadnessRight then, having said my little bit, here's today's post. It was inspired by Jiaying and an incident which happened in the afternoon </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111521991394967503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111521991394967503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111521991394967503' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111513252553683212</id><published>2005-05-03T22:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-03T23:02:05.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Madness and DevianceI once read Paulo Coelho's "Veronika Decides To Die". It was the story of this girl who, having accomplished almost everything she dreamt of for the 20-odd years of her life, deciding to commit suicide. She fails, and henceforth is committed to a mental institution. There, she learns of a fatal defect caused by her attempted suicide and is told that she has only one week to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111513252553683212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111513252553683212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111513252553683212' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111479867450040143</id><published>2005-04-30T02:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-30T02:17:54.503+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Courtesy, It Begins With Me.Singapore, this little island state that we live in, has grown rapidly from a tiny fishing village to a close-to-developed nation in less than a century. Of course, all this comes at a price. From kampungs where neighbours knew one another and kids played together outside in the spaces surrounding the zinc-roofed houses, to the high-rise flats most of the population </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111479867450040143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111479867450040143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111479867450040143' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111470400332320706</id><published>2005-04-28T23:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-29T00:00:03.323+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Problem with the Tag-Board.Please post your comments or communications using the comments option at the bottom of the posts.Thanks!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111470400332320706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111470400332320706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111470400332320706' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111470368664718028</id><published>2005-04-28T23:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T23:54:46.646+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A meaningless postAs any group B student knows, tomorrow, 29 April 2005, is our liberation.The final paper.Statistics.So I've been too stressed (!) to post.I'll be back with insights from tomorrow onwards. Thanks for your support.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111470368664718028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111470368664718028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111470368664718028' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111444131061720311</id><published>2005-04-25T23:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T23:01:50.616+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sex and The CityYes, I know this is the title of a book by Candice Bushnell and also a very very successful series shown over HBO, which launched season 6 on our shores, ending its run last year. But nope, I'm not talking about the the book or the show. Today's post tackles the issues about sex, in my perspective as a young adult.Not too long ago, while a couple of my chums and I were at a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111444131061720311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111444131061720311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111444131061720311' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111427583013200036</id><published>2005-04-24T01:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-24T01:03:50.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Before today's post, I'd like to highlight a few changes I've made!First is the relocation of the tagboard to the RIGHT side of the text. So that its more easily accessible. No need to scroll all the way down no more..The most obvious change. New title, new look.Also, I've done abit of organizing within the links portion. I've segregated my favourite links into "friends", which links to friends' </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111427583013200036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111427583013200036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111427583013200036' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111419185282782923</id><published>2005-04-23T01:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-24T00:14:25.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Of Losers and EgosOk, I know I was supposed to post on "comfort" today, but sorry Cher, I've not really been able to formulate a proper post on that. Once I've got some ideas I will blog on that! But back to today's topic. I was chatting on msn with a gal pal of mine today, ok, not that I have that many gal pals, but ok, the thing is, I was amazed at how fiery our conversation was today. First </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111419185282782923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111419185282782923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111419185282782923' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111405322543129458</id><published>2005-04-21T11:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-21T11:13:45.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Men are from Mars, Women are from VenusI'm probably gonna get a whole lot of flak for this, but well, I just need to get it off my chest. Its been awhile since Wan and I have had a smooth-sailing time, but what happened yesterday kinda took the cake. That's for later, but first, I've got stuff to say about what I've decided to blog about today.Doing the usual blog hopping when I came across two </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111405322543129458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111405322543129458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111405322543129458' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111392164478568556</id><published>2005-04-19T22:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-19T22:40:44.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Adversity and the Agency TheoryAfter 3 days of no posts, I've just picked up some inspiration on the eve of my most valuable subject. Its amazing how adversity brings out the best in some people while causing the others to rear their ugly and selfish heads. This brings me back to the time when I was still serving. Being overworked and underpaid tends to cause what we call the agency problem to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111392164478568556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111392164478568556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111392164478568556' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111358327665586833</id><published>2005-04-16T00:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-16T00:41:16.656+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>To Market, To MarketJust had my first official paper today. And you guessed it, its marketing. Something I haven't been really good at. It was a free expression paper, and well, I hope differences from the rest will secure some unique grade for me. Because I realised that all around me were people frantically copying bits of Kotler and Armstrong, and there I was, writing whatever I thought of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111358327665586833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111358327665586833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111358327665586833' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111348948026620073</id><published>2005-04-14T22:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T22:38:00.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ChanceI was looking at the 4D results last night when I realised I'd missed third prize and $1000. The number was 4571, and I had the dubious distinction of "tio ji bo tio lui", or, in English, would be that I guessed all four numbers correctly, but got the permutation wrong. My ticket showed 1745, and I was livid. True, had I known it was going to be drawn, I would have dumped my cash into a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111348948026620073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111348948026620073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111348948026620073' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111341046097535407</id><published>2005-04-14T00:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T00:41:00.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Multitasking and ConcentrationIn this digital age, much has changed in the way people do things. Where there used to be public phones, there are blank spaces due to the alarmingly high mobile phone penetration rate here in our little island rendering public phones obsolete. I mean, how many young people nowadays actually use the good ol' cardphone to call home? Or an even more rare sight: someone</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111341046097535407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111341046097535407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111341046097535407' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111331938833891039</id><published>2005-04-12T23:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T23:23:08.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sunny HoursI figure its high time I changed the tone a little. Recently, with the inclement weather and crappy tectonic movements, the sun is a welcome figure in the sky whenever it comes out to play. Just like the little kids who wish for that little amount of blue sky enough to make a pair of sailor's pants so that they can have clear weather to go out and play. (This was from an Enid Blyton </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111331938833891039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111331938833891039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111331938833891039' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111324008160638066</id><published>2005-04-12T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T01:21:21.610+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Turn Back Time.How many of us wish we could turn back time? Return to the period of infinite happiness and enjoyment and make it last forever. We all know its ultimately impossible, and whenever something happens, we start to regret and wished we'd done what we had wanted to do then. Although its really a matter of choice whether we want to live in regret or in satisfaction, it is my belief that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111324008160638066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111324008160638066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111324008160638066' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111314033152506327</id><published>2005-04-10T21:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T21:38:51.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Life is a Flower."We live in a free worldI whistle down the windCarry on smilingAnd the world will smile with youLife is a flowerSo precious in your handCarry on smilingAnd the world will smile with you." - Ace of BaseThe song is upbeat, but however, the tone of today's post is seriously downbeat. Note today's exceptionally early post. This is due to something which happened during the course of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111314033152506327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111314033152506327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111314033152506327' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111307010360975447</id><published>2005-04-10T02:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-10T02:08:23.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Individuality or Duality?Was talking to a friend just now when she remarked: "you know, that time you asked me whether I had a bf? I almost said no..." and that gave me the inspiration for this post. So credit is due to H, in case someone reads this and it causes some conflict somewhere which I should not be blamed for. So H, you know who you are, credit goes to you.Yesterday was about walking on</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111307010360975447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111307010360975447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111307010360975447' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111297833258532081</id><published>2005-04-09T00:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T00:38:52.586+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>La Vie En Rose - Edith PiafDes yeux qui font baisser les miensUn rire qui se perd sur sa boucheVoilà le portrait sans retoucheDe l'homme auquel j'appartiens{Refrain:}Quand il me prend dans ses bras,Il me parle tout basJe vois la vie en rose,Il me dit des mots d'amourDes mots de tous les jours,Et ça me fait quelque choseIl est entré dans mon cœur,Une part de bonheurDont je connais la cause,C'est </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297833258532081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297833258532081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111297833258532081' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111297801023973686</id><published>2005-04-09T00:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T00:33:30.240+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>the young and innocent days. now sadly gone. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297801023973686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297801023973686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111297801023973686' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111297772152583141</id><published>2005-04-09T00:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T00:28:41.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>the highs and the lows. suitable for today's post. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297772152583141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297772152583141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111297772152583141' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111297762693600321</id><published>2005-04-09T00:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T00:27:06.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>the holy circle. NOT! </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297762693600321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297762693600321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111297762693600321' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111297751560258883</id><published>2005-04-09T00:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-09T00:25:15.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Walk On.I guess I've hardly posted stuff about my daily life, and I don't think I'm about to start today. Nothing like "I ate at 12.30 and I ate Nasi Lemak with X." Nope. Just not my style I guess. But slowly I'm moving there. Slowly but surely. Because in life, we are not static beings. We all have to move on. Hence the title of the post.There are many instances for one to move on. At this age, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297751560258883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111297751560258883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111297751560258883' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111289540982497286</id><published>2005-04-08T01:36:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-08T01:36:49.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Happier times in Sem 1 </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289540982497286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289540982497286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111289540982497286' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111289537641650612</id><published>2005-04-08T01:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-08T01:36:16.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The guys with Beng </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289537641650612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289537641650612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111289537641650612' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111289533318321020</id><published>2005-04-08T01:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-08T01:35:33.183+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The girls with Beng. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289533318321020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289533318321020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111289533318321020' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111289450073409896</id><published>2005-04-08T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-08T01:21:40.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Goodbye Lenin.No, I'm not talking about the movie. Neither am I referring to the marxist Vladimir Ilyich. Just thought it sounded quite good. Ok, I have another reason. More like a goodbye to school and lessons. For now.Had a blast while acting out our French presentation. As usual, the room was filled with laughter and Mademoiselle's usually stony face was cracked with a smile of amusement as we</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289450073409896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111289450073409896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111289450073409896' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6124661.post-111277855116346771</id><published>2005-04-06T17:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T17:09:11.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The importance of friends.Well, I know I never stop telling everyone how important friends are, but really, they're extremely important to someone like me. A loner-in-a-hole-with-no-siblings-whatsoever creep. Yes, I'm the only kid at home. And no, I'm not as privileged as some kids with large families. On the contrary, I try to get by with what I have. Hence the importance of friends.I think </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111277855116346771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6124661/posts/default/111277855116346771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cre3p.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111277855116346771' title=''/><author><name>Marcus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10823911386360738197</uri><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></entry></feed>
