<?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-5885379</id><updated>2011-07-31T07:50:54.505+01:00</updated><title type='text'>This is the story</title><subtitle type='html'>What kind of impression would you like?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5885379.post-5641560916875728572</id><published>2007-10-29T12:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-29T12:57:04.204Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I hold on stubbornly to the distant yet vivid memories. I am at once happy, yet sad. Happy, because I savoured the sweet taste of love. Sad because that is the sweetest I would ever had tasted.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/5641560916875728572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/5641560916875728572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html#5641560916875728572' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-4586841206443786797</id><published>2007-10-29T12:42:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-10-29T12:52:50.605Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Emptiness and HeavinessWhat does it feel like to have emptiness occupy every space of your heart? You only feel the full force of emptiness weigh down on you, while you attempt feebly to find that magic sparkle to banish the emptiness from existence. The heaviness of the heart sinks one down to the depths of emotional darkness. You only wish that what formerly occupied that emptiness could once </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/4586841206443786797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/4586841206443786797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html#4586841206443786797' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-111489161092102792</id><published>2005-04-30T20:41:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2005-04-30T21:09:11.566+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tripping at the final hurdleYour whole life has been a journey, where one deed is built on another. The existence of a previous experience is often rationalised and justified by the subsequent one it paves way for. The movement of experience fluctuates in troughs and peaks, but at critical checkpoints, you successfully clear the necessary hurdles to move forward - with the confidence of your </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/111489161092102792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/111489161092102792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html#111489161092102792' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-110151787252749225</id><published>2004-11-26T18:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-27T01:11:12.526Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've found the answers i've been looking forWhile struggling to rationalise my pessimism, unhappiness, and source of discomfort in recent days, I had tried to find answers from around me - the people whom i am close to, the things that i do, the things i didn't do, some things that i had done, and happenings around me. What I had found offered a brief and superficial respite to the nagging sore</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110151787252749225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110151787252749225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110151787252749225' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-110116283007817098</id><published>2004-11-22T22:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-22T22:33:50.076Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Nurturing notions of yourselfWhat are you? And what do you ought to be? The former is largely a product of your own doing, literally speaking. You've shaped yourself into the person you are through your actions, or sometimes inaction, but ultimately you have been largely responsible for turning out the scoundrel that everyone hates, or the bona fide charmer everyone loves. The latter of course </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110116283007817098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110116283007817098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110116283007817098' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-110090931953663964</id><published>2004-11-19T23:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-20T00:10:43.666Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Emotional implosions.Do you ever experience the feeling of extreme congestion in your guts coupled with a leaden heart, a deadly combination which threatens to psychologically cripple you? It renders the flow of your blood torpid, sluggish. Leaving you shackled to the infinite weight of an emotional baggage composed of memories, retrospection, and doses of regret. Whereupon you question the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110090931953663964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110090931953663964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110090931953663964' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-110081037681282425</id><published>2004-11-18T20:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-18T20:39:36.813Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Silent introspection..............................</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110081037681282425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/110081037681282425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110081037681282425' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-109978062442511774</id><published>2004-11-06T22:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-06T22:37:04.426Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The inescapable truthsOn a related note, I also find myself confronting inescapable truths. Truths are defined as matters of fact which authenticity and veracity are undeniable. Inescapable somehow implies that the truth applies to you, and there is little way you can expect to worm yourself out of it, or even attempt to deny its existence. The matter at hand, of course, is what we commonly </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109978062442511774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109978062442511774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109978062442511774' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-109978003122384254</id><published>2004-11-06T22:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-11-06T22:27:11.223Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wrestling with emotionsAs some of you may know, living with housemates is never easy, especially when your housemate(s) happen(s) to be what we know in hokkien as "buay zi dong". For the past month, i have been assailed with problems relating to a pesky character of a housemate i had to endure, with which there is little avenue for recourse except for that occasional lamentation to my friends. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109978003122384254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109978003122384254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#109978003122384254' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-109925506219132849</id><published>2004-10-31T20:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-10-31T20:37:42.190Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Something strange is happening to me. I think i have a personality crisis, or what people common know as schizophrenia. After a frustrating attempt on (half of) my finance assignment, I was typing some innocuous complaints to my friend on msn, when i noticed that...wait a min, i didn't type those comments. As in, i wasn't thinking of that. Apparently my subconsciousness had overtaken momentarily,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109925506219132849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109925506219132849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_archive.html#109925506219132849' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-109328394354614395</id><published>2004-08-23T18:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2004-08-23T18:59:03.546+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The story was quite some time ago. What about the story before this story? When i was back in school. Caught myself reminiscing about school while i was flipping through my autographs. It occured to me that in the course of our lives, we do meet many many people, and often many of them leave an impression deep enough such that we only require a particular trigger to remember them. The story has </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109328394354614395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/109328394354614395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109328394354614395' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-108020026392730132</id><published>2004-03-25T07:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-25T07:41:12.186Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do people have serious issues or are they just attention seekers?Yes, i do conclude that there are many attention-seekers lyding in our midst. I am mean seriously childish ones. And one of the ways they do this is to assume a faux-iconoclastic slant, mixed with doses of pseudo-cynicism.. not the brand of anti-establishment epitomised by Bart Simpson, but something which reeks of pretension...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/108020026392730132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/108020026392730132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108020026392730132' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107913265673377396</id><published>2004-03-12T23:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-12T23:07:28.513Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Does time slow to a crawl when you’re on the plane? Time assumes a type of constancy, just like dimensions do. You can’t stretch it, nor could you shrink it. Like the way we acknowledge our own 3-dimensional existence, time is the measure of movement of objects within a 3-dimensional space, where stillness springs into life.  While the rate of time can be taken as an absolute measure, in seconds,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107913265673377396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107913265673377396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107913265673377396' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107888253996782764</id><published>2004-03-10T01:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-10T02:35:56.890Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What is wrong with Argentina (Or is it Argentina)?When troubled or sad, and one feels the need to get his mind off things, just write. Impulsively, Hammer the keyboard. Let the words race across the screen. And narrate the first thign that comes to mind. Oh yes, the Econs Tutorial i had today. It was a non-event, save for the couple of careless mistakes i made in my previous exercises. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107888253996782764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107888253996782764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107888253996782764' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107878566113944607</id><published>2004-03-08T22:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-08T22:44:06.936Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HAHA! Just when i am nicely settled into doing some serious work, some quirky character upped the volume of his television to reveal the scandalous contents of the programme he is watching. Hall life...how interesting...The woman in the programme just kept on going..."awhhh.........sssssssssssssssss......oh.........ssssssssssss........ohhh.."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107878566113944607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107878566113944607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107878566113944607' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107878275852850514</id><published>2004-03-08T21:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-08T21:55:44.123Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>About compulsory medical insuranceLately, i had a spirited debate with one of my ex-classmates about the merits of a compulsory medical insurance imposed on members of a society. This topic was apparently broached by one of the columnists in the Straits Times in response to Health Minister Khaw Boon Wan's suggestions that medical coverage should be privatised in the sense that individuals take </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107878275852850514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107878275852850514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107878275852850514' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107877325568001270</id><published>2004-03-08T19:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-08T19:17:21.640Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Troubled definitions of civil society.IR Class lately has become less of an enjoyment - very much. Somehow it has become a personality struggle, with some dominant characters pushing their own agendas which threatens to render the entire discussion irrelevant. It comes as a great source of disturbance, when the crux of the issue today had not even been broached during the hour long discussion </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107877325568001270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107877325568001270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107877325568001270' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107877200606301767</id><published>2004-03-08T18:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-08T18:56:31.466Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bouts of raw energy surging within me...i can't wait to lay my hands on all the books surrounding me, rip them apart with my prying eyes, and devour their insidious hunger for my attention, to satisfy my own. Lately, i've been inspired by many people around me to view my life with greater circumspect and devise a more worldly and meaningful existence. I would like to race to the top, say to speak</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107877200606301767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107877200606301767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107877200606301767' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107878341307398005</id><published>2004-03-01T21:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-03-08T22:06:39.343Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My views on ethical capitalism.Secons yahoogroups still interests me somewhat. Recently one of the secons teachers posed a seemingly innocuous question as to whether profit-making by a firm can be an end in itself, with reference to a speech made by labour chief Mr Lim Boon Heng, that obviously it can't. That was when Mr Lim Boon Heng proposed the framework of "ethical capitalism", where firms </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107878341307398005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107878341307398005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107878341307398005' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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-5885379.post-107478360326057548</id><published>2004-01-22T15:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2004-01-22T15:09:16.390Z</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Personally, it is really hard to begin a blog. I am not trying to offer people a glimpse of my personal life..that is so exhibitionist..but i do suppose that at some pts, i have something i think perhaps would be worth sharing with people who may actually appreciate it. Or like what most of us are, we are constantly yearning to be heard..perhaps seeking an invisible audience to satiate this </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107478360326057548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5885379/posts/default/107478360326057548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rongren.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107478360326057548' title=''/><author><name>Rong Ren</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11411134295310436713</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>
