Its here... almost

So, here I stand at the summit. I began this blog to document and notarize my downhill slide to 30 and now, 6 hours from my destination, I realize that it was not a down hill journey at all. In fact, I have unknowingly scaled Kilimanjaro leaving markers ever so often on my ascent in the form of blog entries. What a great diary of growth! The last four months have been profound on so many levels. I found my voice and its strong and clear. Thank you, God. In using that voice, I became acquainted with a very new Scooby. Proud. Unapologetic. Free. Creative. Loved powerfully from every angle. Loved POWERFULLY from every angle. With the recognition of this blessing came a peace that is new and transcends understanding.

I have real friends... Thank You, God. I have real family... Thank You, God. My life means something. Thank You my blessed Savior. Tomorrow starts the beginning of a new mountain but for tonight, I will just enjoy the view from the top of this one. Happy New Year thinkers...

Scooby

5 hours and 45 minutes from being 30 years old and loving it

Land of the, Home of the...

Haven't we been here before?

I am not fooled by the current "debate" going on about healthcare in this country. The right wing curiously frames their opposition argument in terms of fiscal imperatives. Hmmm. This stance sounds strangely congruous with the South's defense of slavery in the late 1800s. Less a moral issue and more a financial inconvenience... smells like capitalism...

Fat Cat Insurance companies and the Cotton/ Tobacco industry of America's past have scarily similar interests... the financial bottom line. Little do most people know or care to accept, slavery was not about skin color. Nope. Sure wasn't. It was about FREE LABOR. The argument that blacks were somehow sub-human was concocted to moralize and justify their enslavement. America was literally built on the blood, sweat, and tears of its enslaved, uncompensated population. Yay Capitalism!

Blacks= The modern day uninsured

It is far cheaper and lucrative for the insurance industry to subscribe to the status quo then make the right choice to insure that all Americans have quality medical coverage. Just as it was far cheaper and lucrative for slave masters/ plantation owners to continue to subjugate and exploit Blacks in the name of capitalism... Three Cheers for Capitalism!

Slave masters= Insurance Industry

Just as 1864 was a defining year for America, so is 2009. We, Americans, are charged with the dilemma of re-configuring the healthcare industry just as our fore fathers were challenged with the elimination of slavery. Both situations were abominable. Both moral imperatives. MORAL!!!!!! Access to quality and affordable healthcare for all Americans is not an issue of finance. If it were, any American with a 7th grade education could think of 10 or more frivolous usages of tax payer revenue that could be cut to absorb this cost. Do we all recall the 400 dollar toilet seat and the 500 dollar haircut trends? ... The problem is the Boss Hog, Fat Cat, Robber Barons of the Insurance Industry don't want to color in the lines (remember Robber Barons from 7th grade History Class? Thank You Mrs. Thorpe I knew it would come in handy one day!). They feel that they are entitled to make 900% more a year than the Average American and STILL deny them access to care. Let's hear a big cheer for Capitalism!!!!!

(silence)

Oh yeah, that's right... Capitalism kinda sucks.

Cover and flank me with your prayers and you can rest assured I am doing the same for you...

Scooby

It aint just about the chedda...

I am spending this morning contemplating forms of currency. 2009 was the year Scooby came to realize that money is the weakest and least valuable of currencies (please excuse my first and third person usages, I'm feeling literary and dense today, roll with it).

As I slide down the hill towards 30, allusions fade and existential ideas become tangible. I've always known a full life was more than money but I didn't know how divorced money and happiness were until now. I am indeed rich. My wealth is not evidenced by countless zeroes in my bank account nor is it witnessed by an entourage of servants adorning me in the accoutrements associated with earthly status. Rather, I have been blessed with another understanding and experience of rich.

Love, friendship, sex, time, art, and wisdom are all currency forms that I enjoyed this year. And let me say, I was LOADED... LOL.

My friends. Where does one begin to give thanks for my angels/demons? LOL. Mommy, Daddy, Darrell, James, Maureen, Crystal, Topaz, Sammy, Sigmund, Myah, Rhett, Holly, Sho, Rhea, Tiff, Amy, Chris, Kyle, Lida, Nicole... and all those unmentioned but un-forgotten. What can I say? Thank you for sharing your lives with me and being a part of my journey towards 30! Whether we were sitting on my couch "doing what adults do" or sending a facebook message to one another from across the globe, our connections run deep and defy ebbing.

Sex is so powerful. Used and enjoyed wisely and with respect, sex is a commodity. A tool:) Why most people don't know their power as sexual, sensual beings and live in it fully is beyond me. Ever since I was 17, I have been rich in this currency with many returns! I thank God for a fulfilling and wonderful sex life!!!!! Connection is healthy and part of a balanced, full, human existence... GET OUT THERE AND START DOING IT PEOPLE!!!!!!!

Wisdom. Enough said.

Thank you God for the gift that is art and creativity. Reflections of the divine exist for me in my most creative space as if my creator and I share a connection accessed by means of creative birth. I am rich as I commune with thee...

Lastly, I am doubly rich and blessed because you take the time to read, comment on, and care about what Scooby thinks. For this, I give thanks and love...

As always cover and flank me in your prayers for you can be assured I am always doing the same 4 u...

Happy Holidays

Scoobyrubydu

Princess Tiana vs The Honey Voiced Homeless Woman

The question...

"Why is it that when blackness is seen through the prism of White America it never equals the sum of its parts?"

Disney has yet again taken that which is rich, full and particular and stripped it to its skeletal frame like an El Dorado in Watts. As I sat at the midnight showing of their new animated film, The Princess and the Frog, I couldn't help but feel betrayed and misled. I expected to see a fantasia featuring and spotlighting the African American experience but what I got was a one dimensional, pitiful after-thought that seemed like the forced product of some affirmative action arm twisting. Ouch.

Louisiana's cultural landscape is quite particular. Can someone explain to me at whose behest they replaced the circle line music which is the aural cornerstone of this place with washed out Randy Newman bluegrass? Creative license huh? The music for Aladdin had more Afro-influence than these hackneyed tunes. Strike 1. I could forgive this misstep if the next weren't so grievous. Egregious. Flagrant... THE ACCENTS! The Bayou wordplay and melodic cadence is so specific and cannot be faked! Playing fast and loose with this dialect was only indicative of the overall lack of care and attention to detail. Strike 2.

Can someone please explain to me why Disney set out to make a movie starring African American characters but found it acceptable to employ ZERO African American creative minds? UGHHHHH! Strike 3.

Why was the animation straight out of 1992? I mean, we've seen Shrek and UP so, we know that animation has moved FAR beyond the 2 dimensional creations of the past. Why did this particular movie have to retro-grade? Strike 4.

Finally, don't bill the flick as being about the first black princess if its TRULY about the first FROG PRINCESS! She was a frog for 85 % of the movie! I know this is part of the story and to some I may seem callous but ... So What! Strike... Oh damn, you get it! LOL!

Fast forward to an early morning in NYC...

As I danced smoothly and uncontrollably on the subway platform to Ledisi's new album, the sweetest voice cut through the air and grabbed immediately for my heart. I had to stop, un-ipod my ears, and listen. There stood a homeless woman belting out one of my favorite Clark Sisters' hits, "Endow Me". I immediately put Ledisi on pause and missed the next 3 trains in order to be audience to this Carnegie Hall worthy performance. Her voice was so big and full. Aching. I ached inside of it. Wow. I thought to myself, "... this is it, the heart that was missing from the movie last night... the heart of true experience... the ability to stir up spirit... that authentic-ness that we as proud Afro-Americans connect to immediately and without hesitation... " Before I could man up, I found myself crying and listening. This Honey Voiced Homeless Woman had done in 20 seconds what Disney (with all their infinite resources) had failed to do. Move me. Make me believe. Make me proud to be black... Home run.

Oh well...

As always cover and flank me with your prayers as I am always doing the same for you...

Scooby

Aint got shit to say.

Somewhere, Somehow, Someway, I misplaced my acerbic perspective, rhetorical stylings, and razor wit. Have you seen them? Seriously.

An artist has no fodder without the tortures of an unjust world. My life has been quite torture-free and surprisingly just as of lately so, I aint got shit to say. Rather than attempt to fit the circle in the square hole or squeeze blood from a turnip, silence will tell my story. (Thank God I can still birth a metaphor:)

Stay tuned...

Keep covering and flanking with the certainty that I will pontificate soon...

Scooby

Uniquely American

What happened at Fort Hood was a great American tragedy but, Major Nidal was not the only culprit, Uncle Sam deserves our collective ire as well. This massacre wasn't the first moment in history when the requirements of assimilation played counterpoint to a healthy sense of cultural identity. For centuries, disenfranchised groups in this country have been forced to pick between the call of ancestor's voices and what is inherently "American". Let me expand...

Muslim Americans are in a precarious situation. America has YET to find empathy for this community when it comes to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Does this group not have a right to feel conflicted? Especially because the ORIGINAL mission in the Middle East has been so bastardized and deformed. Where the hell is Osama Bin Laden? Yikes.

Don't get it twisted America. Insurgents and extremists are not the only ones dying in the Middle East at the hands of our freedom forces. Women, children and other innocents are collateral damage. Sadly, the great American propaganda machine is well oiled and efficient so images of THESE bodies lying roadside are not in circulation. However, the truth of war will not be denied. So the question becomes, "How do sensitive God/Allah fearing souls to deal with these disparities?"

I know my history and if history is a forward indicator, than there is no easy answer to this question. Afro-Americans have been trying to strike this very sensitive balance for centuries. The demands of success in America have been especially hard for brown people because we have been told plainly that the enemy is in our community. House Negro/ Field Negro, Black Cop/ Brothers on the corner, Light Skinned/ Dark Skinned...

How does the black cop feel when he is forced to kill his brother in a drug bust? Participate in racial profiling? Probably much the same way that a Muslim feels when he is forced to murder his Middle Eastern brethren as a member of the American Armed forces. Dilemma.

Now let me make this clear... Major Nidal is indeed a very sick man and deserves to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for the destruction and pain he has caused. But his underlying issue NEEDS to be addressed because he is not singular. For some, the sacrifice to be a "good" American is too great...

As always cover and flank me with your prayers as I am always doing the same for you,

Scooby

Mmm, not sure

"He's ALREADY blessing me."

Already. Already? When pastor said these words on Sunday, I had both reactions. I know God's love is all around and has insulated me up to this present moment but, what about going forward? The next part of my life has EXTREMELY high stakes and I wonder if one has a finite grace expenditure. Is God concerned with achieving the proper balance of blessings or, does grace stretch as far as faith will allow? Hmmm...

I was pretty popular in high school. I can't deny it. Charm stretched through college and onto my years in Europe. New York brought new levels of blessing and fortune. Don't hate me, the road certainly got rougher...

The last 5 years have been harder than the first 25. From money, to career, to health, challenges were a-plenty. From what I hear, no one is born charmed, lives charmed AND dies charmed. Ask Paris Hilton, Michael Jackson, and the likes. Into every life, a little rain must fall... Cue monsoon and hurricane. I won't bore you with the endless parade of nightmare moments I have endured over the past half decade but believe me, its wince-worthy.

So the question is, can I expect the next season in my life to be magical because the last five years, well... sucked? I know God's promise is real but I don't know if he works on the barter system. "I'll trade you a week's depression if you will evaporate these last five pounds!" Cut to me both depressed and ten pounds overweight. No fair!!!!!

So, let me get this straight... I should be of the thinking that I am already blessed in my moments of infirmity and weakness? Then I can look at everything as a blessing... hold it a second, Butch, I'm definitely not there yet. But I am praying on it...

As always cover and flank me with your prayers and rest assured I am doing the same for you, even if my day.. well, sucks.

Scooby