From left, me, Beardog Bob, and National Park Ranger Anne Wilson at the 60th anniversary celebration of Agate Fossil Beds National Monument on June 7, 2025.
The drive north on Highway 29, was a somber one. My mind was elsewhere and I didn’t take note of the weather. A good storyteller would have remembered to do that, but I didn’t today.
My supervisors.
EMDR and therapy have been rough lately. It’s okay. That’s how it works. However, I hadn’t anticipated the current deluge of events, which have rained down more drops than I feel I can handle all at once.
A honey bee approaches a flower as it searches for nectar in the flowerbed outside Riverside Discovery Center.
“When are we leaving?” Paul said.
“For what?” I said.
“I’m so tired of this clown show,” he said.
Me, age 23, in my CSO uniform, standing in front of the best car I ever had – a 1989 Toyota Corolla SR5 coupe with pop-up headlights.
About a month after receiving my bachelor’s degree in Anthropology, I accepted a position with the University of Nebraska-Lincoln Police Department (UNLPD) as a Community Service Officer (CSO). The intention was to take advantage of the $3 a credit hour – max six hours per semester – the university offered to employees and get a master’s degree in Anthropology.
Me, right, with my friend Roberta.
The second No Kings protest against the Trump regime was held on Saturday, October 18, 2025. These are some of the photos I took of all the people I know who turned out for the event in Scottsbluff, Nebraska.
A photo of me I actually like. No Kings Protest in Scottsbluff, October 18, 2025. The guy with the Trump balloon took this photo of me.
It wasn’t until 2025 that I decided to protest. I’ve made the phone calls and sent the letters, but, over the last 15-20 years, all I get is a polite “fuck you” or no response at all. At today’s No King’s protest in Scottsbluff, I joined at least 300 people in an effort to try and effect some change.
The outfit I wore to the Sun Dance.
Driving East out of Scottsbluff, I pass all the familiar sights which bring me peace and put a smile on my face. There were the dozen or so horses walking with each other in still dew-laden field. Red cows meandered among the shimmering rolling hills of the morning. The sun glistened everything along my route North along Highway 385.
Somewhere past Alliance and before Chadron I turned right down a dirt road. Around a quarter of a mile later, I turned left into a field. I had reached my destination of a journey that had begun more than a year before.
Oh, hey, look at that alliteration I accidentally did with my title. Anyway…
I had lunch yesterday and the day before with two really good friends whose opinions I value and respect. For the last year, I’ve been toying with the idea of two different blog posts, but have been hesitant to write them. Ultimately, this is my blog and I can write what I want, but I also want to be respectful of other people and not come off as an angry bitch.
Note: I wrote this on April 15, 2017. Other than my boss’s boss, no one has ever seen it. It feels pertinent to me today to share it, especially in light of those in power and when you consider how much we are told that bullies go away after high school. They don’t. We are constantly fighting against them. Talking to the bully and asking for help didn’t work for me, so I wrote this letter and gave it to the boss’s boss.
Little yellow bastard outside my front door.
There are days I have thoughts in my head I want to write about, but can’t flesh them out into anything more meaningful than a sentence or two. Sometimes it’s because of the PTSD. Sometimes I can’t find the right words to express myself. Sometimes someone else said it better. Sometimes there isn’t anything more to say.
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