Trust Me, There Won't Be Beef Between 50 Cent & This Guy

When things get dreary in the White House and President Bush's legacy appears destined for doom, naturally, Karl Rove finds song and dance to be his outlet.

Rove has the charisma of a 5th grader that just got pushed out onto the dance floor and is in the company of girls for the first time. But I think by the end he really gota hang of it.

Though, I must admit, Karl's high-pitched scream at the end came off as a sign of weakness that other rappers might try to expoit.

But I am not sure if he'll be challenged to a rap battle any time soon. I mean, Karl has torn apart CIA agents!

Some things you might find at the CIA

During my NYLF-Defense, Intelligence, and Diplomacy conference, I visited the CIA headquarters in Northern Virginia. I found some very interesting things:

Scented Candles

Shot Glasses

Russian Dolls

These are all the things stashed away in the place where America's most vital intelligence matters lies. To be more precise, this is what you can find in the wonderfully bizarre, random CIA gift store. It also happens to be just about the only place the CIA actually let us visit. In case you didn't know, the CIA happens to be strict and secretive.

On our bus ride to CIA headquarters in Northern Virginia, we learned the CIA checked everyone's background two weeks in advance of our visit. We weren't allowed to bring any electronic devices on the bus (That is right, my Ipod is a national security threat) and the first thing that happened when we arrived was a complete search of the vehicle with bomb-sniffing canines.

As strict and secretive the CIA is, everything else was pretty normal. I didn't find James Bond, but I did see a lot of forty-year old men that looked balding and grey, perfectly suitable for a Viagra or Cialis commercial.

An analyst spoke to us about working for a CIA, describing its perks, follies, and the various misconceptions about working there. She was a young hispanic girl, several years out of grad school and she seemed very down to Earth. She traveled abroad, but never as undercover case officer. In fact, instead of traveling or participating in any life threatening activities, the bulk of her job consisted of reading, thinking critically, and then writing. She and the rest of her colleagues work very hard, explaining the seemingly random selection of things at the CIA gift store. CIA employees don't get out much so the gift shop serves as the one-stop place for all their needs.

Its too bad I learned that those needs aren't necessarily mine.

Flying "Home"

I returned from Washington/Atlanta yesterday, and I will reflect on some of my individual experiences later, including my visit to the CIA headquarters. But an important matter hit me miles above the Pacific Ocean that needs to be addressed now.

I fly to the mainland at least once or twice every year and yesterday was the first time in my life where I have flown back and realized there is very little left here in Hawaii for me. Instead of flying home and looking forward to my room, my favorite chair in the living room, and the bright beaches and lush rainforests, I felt as if the flight and my arrival in Honolulu was merely temporary.

In little more than a month or two, I will already be planning my permanent departure from the place that, for better and worse, I lived the first eighteen years of my life.

Leaving will be a bittersweet experience. Honestly, I have always believed that lending the word "paradise" to describe Hawaii is inacurrate. I value my experiences growing up here, attending Punahou, participating in Little League baseball, tossing a football around on the beach. Yet, I never have felt completely welcome or accepted in Hawaii. Perhaps this is a result of my own insecurity. Being known as the redhead, the pale boy, the haole, I always felt aleinated, an outcast trapped among rows of surfboards, rice bowl hair cuts, bright floral printed boardshorts, and the sound of ukuleles.

That flower lei my grandparents put on me after graduating Queen Emma Pre School must have suffocated something in me.

Despite my issues with Hawaii, I will miss some things, particularly my family: the aroma of my mother's lasagna and how she shreiks if you don't come to dinner on time, the way my dad curls up in his favorite chair to watch Dallas Cowboys games, my sisters loud voice singing a long to John Mayer, and the sparkling smile of my little brother's face whenever he finds out the New York Yankees win.

Yet, when one turns 18, they can't live like they are eight. It is time to leave Hawaii, the swamps and sunshine of Kailua, the familiar blocks of Wanaao Road and turn it in for something dramatically different. Even my reluctant parents know that. I will be living a lot closer to the real world in a few months.

The trip to DC/ATL solidified my belief that leaving is not merely a change that is necessary, but rather an oppurtunity to improve and grow. Certainly, I want to go to school in Washington DC. Spending a week there alone, I already feel like I have a head start in adjusting. Hopefully, I will be afforded the oppurtunity to spend more time there very soon.

The world awaits and it is a hell of a lot bigger, more diverse, more sophisticated than a rock in the Pacific Ocean. Sorry if that disappoints you.