Contact me directly at MisplacedBoy09@gmail.com
Let’s just call me Joe.
It’s a good name, a solid name, a name I share with at least a couple other misplaced boys throughout history. Is it my real name or a nom de blog? For now I’ll just say that if it isn’t my real name, it’s pretty close.
OK. So, “misplaced boy,” what’s that about?
In 2008, after a bout of depression that started in earnest in 2003 my life finally fell apart. I was evicted from my apartment, was fired from three jobs in a row, and had to reach out to my family for help.
I was a California native living in the South.
A liberal living in a very red state.
A social worker who worked at WalMart, sold newspaper subscriptions, and worked as a gold buyer.
A self-described “Christian but” who attended a Southern Baptist church.
Most challenging of all, I was 2268 miles away from my daughter.
How did I get there? Duh…read the blog.
I started this blog for a couple of reasons. I needed to vent. And I needed an opportunity to test my writing chops in front of a live audience. It was a place where I could chronicle my adventures as a fish out of water.
In 2013 I finally made it back to Southern Cal, back to a Social Work job, and back to my sweet Boodles. So I’m now slightly less “misplaced” and yet the title still seems appropriate. In one sense I’m back where I belong, but I’m still searching for my place in the world. For love, that of my daughter, friends, maybe even romance if I’m still capable. The misplaced misadventures continue, and I pledge to continue to chronicle those.
Also, because I firmly believe that everyone has the right to my opinion, it will also be a place where I will expound on topics that are important to me such as religion, politics, popular culture, and monkeys. As much as I can I’m going to try to write in real time, so my grammar and punctuation may not be perfect and the language might get a bit crude from time to time. If that bothers you I apologize. For the time being I am going to continue to disguise (although perhaps thinly) my true identity. Oddly, that allows me to be more honest.
Most importantly, it will serve as the first draft of the story that I am living through. My journey through mental illness, homelessness, helplessness, and (I hope) redemption. A story about a misplaced boy. Not lost…just misplaced. A boy who is learning how to bloom where he’s planted. I hope that my story will give hope to others who are also going through trying situations.
But I’ll settle for a cheap laugh.