Shit, this is the hard part, right? Where I talk about myself in some fashion that makes me sound cool and sophisticated. I’m really not any of those things. I was always the ‘different’ one. Too much ‘smarts’ and ‘culture’ to fit in with the street culture I grew up in, but not enough to sit in the same room with the doctors and lawyers on ‘the other side’ of the family.
Then I went to college for social work. At first it was awkward as fuck. I was surrounded by a bunch of classmates who shared the same vision as I did – helping people – but looked to me for insights, ways to connect with others like me, earn their trust, understand their struggles, how to offer a hand up rather than hand out. And as a person who always sat in the back of the room never saying a word, that was a big leap.But they helped me learn my voice, helped me hone my displaced childhood anger into something with direction. Coaxed me into opening my mind to a world of individuals who knew not the struggles the lower-class street kids faced.
Thus I became the one who speaks the least but says the most. It is an award I won my senior year in college that I am still doubtful I deserve. But that doesn’t mean I will not cease attempting to live up to it.
Fast forward way too many years, and thus was born Musings of a Morbit Misfit. A space dedicated to rants, ramblings, and insights into my world and my mind. Scared yet? Be prepared. In this forum, I am the uncensored hood rat that hocked a college degree while living in her car and on couches; I am the unapologetic advocate for the unseen and the underdogs; I am the voice of the voiceless, the trepidatious thoughts in the back of your mind, and the whisper of things better left in the dark.