(Excerpted from a letter to Chuck.)

Hey there Chuck. I'm hoping that this is still your address. I'm sorry I missed you during Christmas break, but I couldn't get in touch with his lordship, Scott. Spoke with him at the beginning of the week, but then couldn't find him again. I probably couldn't have made it out to Binghamton anyhow. I flew home, and when I got there I was completely bushed from work and the flight. It would have been really hard to drive four hours after that. Sigh. Hopefully we'll get to see each other sometime soon. If not, I'll have to end up going over to some weird Asian country.

Life from the nation's capital is going so-so. I'm still unhappily at the same job. I've been having major problems with the person above me. He's a stinky breath, condescending, as-much-talent-as-is-in-my-eyelash asshole. The work has turned from bearably menial, to completely unsatisfactory menial labor. I won't bore you with the gruesome details, but suffice to say, I don't want to be working there two weeks from now.

I don't think I'll be slicing my head off anytime soon though, there is hope in my future. I might be switching groups to a much more enjoyable group, and hopefully more pay within the same company. I'm also going to send out a bulk mailing tomorrow of my new and improved resumes and cover letters. Hopefully something will change soon. The alternative is awfully messy.

I am happy to report that I am still fervently doing Karate. It's been about two and a half months now, and I'm going to test for my gold belt in a week or two. I'm in the best physical shape of my life: I've gained five pounds, I actually have little muscles on my arms, and I have almost defined boxes in my stomach. I'm having a real good time working out there, and I'm actually practicing at home. I'm still pretty inflexible, but I can at least touch my toes, and make a feeble attempt at a split. Once again I have to warn you, I am going to be incredible one of these days. You, Shannon and all the immortals out there better watch out. There's a new god in the neighborhood.

Speaking of his Karate-ship, he actually claims to have written you a letter, but as of yet has not worked up willpower to mail it. He must figure that you can psychically read it from its closed envelope in his apartment. I think he gives you a little too much credit. I believe your mental powers mostly revolve around hypnotizing, but then again, I could be wrong. Quick synopsis of his life: He's finally settled down and accepted that he will be a doctor one day. He doesn't think he'll be a surgeon, but maybe a doctor who deals with physical therapy. He aims to work as little as possible, and make as much as possible for the time spent working. He doesn't want to be on call 24 hours a day, and have no free time. Weird, huh' Him and--shit, forget her name, you know the one he was awfully serious with at the end of school--broke off. He was pretty heart broken over that. But, they both decided it would be better this way. He's able to concentrate more on school, and they made a pact that in five years if neither of them are in a relationship, they'll try again. Otherwise he's still hanging in there. Hopefully that letter will find its way to the post office eventually.

Moving on to school, I am still considering going to law school next semester. I was offered a full scholarship to go to Syracuse Law (think of it, me and the big guy back together. . .all we'd need is Scott to move next door and you to sleep in our closet, and it would be like college all over again. That is until you get a girlfriend and then ditch your friends for the majority of the semester only coming back to them at the end because you realize what you did and finally are able to come to terms with having both a girlfriend and friends outside her that is I'm not saying that I'm bitter or anything or even that this is a run-on sentence but who knows?). I've also been accepted to Brooklyn Law with a chance at a scholarship from there too (neither school is very good, but at least I got in somewhere.) I've been rejected from NYU (the bastards), and I haven't yet heard from Duke and Cornell (waiting on my third rejection from that school.) Of course, I'm not sure whether I even want to go to law school, so this all might be pretty academic. I'm also considering applying for a Ph.D. program for the following semester in Computer Science. You know, be a full-time geek. Who knows? I'm also hoping that Dick Clark and Ed McMahon send me a check for $10 million dollars; the only problem is I forgot to fill out the entry form. One can always hope though.

As for my love life. 'nough said.

I was going through AD&D withdrawal last week. I was in such the mood to play, and there was nobody to play with. I miss those Friday nights. Sigh. I'm happy to report that I don't miss playing Magic at all. In fact, I feel richer without the game in my life. I wonder why. My beer tolerance is also slowly going up as well. Went out last night (a pretty rare occasion, seeing as I have few friends down here), and actually had pretty thick, and alcoholic beer. While I passed on the stout, I did drink some dark ale, and liked it better than a lighter, raspberry beer. I guess we all have to grow up sometime.

Have you made your first million yet? I expect a postcard when you do (and perhaps a check taped to it. I did inspire you. A little? Please:) My philosophizing has dropped off dramatically since school. I get few chances to practice my art, and I seem worse for the wear. Although you'll be happy (or perhaps not interested) to know, that I have be revising my thoughts, and I definitely think I have more powers than just immortality, and the little window in my head. I'm working on what they are, so as soon as I can market them, I'll send you a postcard.

Life is otherwise pretty boring. I need someone to vicariously live through, so send me a letter with your exploits. I'm sure you're saving most of them for your memoirs, but I'm sure you can give me a sneak peak at them. Umm, if possible, can you write it in English? My Korean isn't what it used to be.

From Washington DC, this nation's capital, and home of. . .err. . .me, I once again wish you well. I hope this letter finds you, and when it does you are tolerably happy, in a wonderful relationship, and making millions of dollars (of which you wish to share it with your lonely, pathetic, pen pal in DC.) Speak with you soon.