Book Review of Abbie Emmons’ Love Story: The Other World

This is my musical interpretation of her book.

A Timeless Love Story in Verse: George Robert Sims’ Poem

Experience the Wildest Live Script Reading Ever: Welcome to the Jungle – Axel Meets Weekend at Bernie’s

I stumbled across the ScullyPop YouTube channel recently, and their latest livestream, Welcome to the Jungle: Axel Meets Weekend at Bernie’s, was unlike anything I’ve watched before. From the moment the “Team Ska” skeletons danced across the screen, I knew this was going to be more than just another video — it was an experience.

Exploring Stephen Vincent Benet’s Campus Sonnets

I have been creating songs from public domain poems. These songs focusing on Stephen Vincent Benet’s Campus Sonnets. They share personal interpretations of four sonnets reflecting college experiences: studying stress, friendship, the aftermath of a party, and an ominous dream of death. Links to the generated songs are provided for each sonnet. Please watch each one in order from 1 to 4.

Campus Sonnet 1: Before An Examination
Campus Sonnet 2: Talk
Campus Sonnet 3: May Morning
Campus Sonnet 4: Return – 1917

Stories Worth the Dust: Embracing Life’s Hidden Gems

These are stories from the back roads—dusted with time, packed with truth. I write songs, poems, and pieces of life that might’ve been tossed aside, but never forgotten. I’m the Yard Sale Queen, and every word I share is something I found worth saving.

I believe this song symbolizes my life.

Embracing Joy: The Yard Sale Queen’s Legacy

THE YARD SALE QUEEN’s LEGACY

From Dreams to Tragedy: Remembering Tammy’s Story

Here is the real story. Names were altered except for Tammy’s.

If you would like to listen to this story, click on this video down below.


At the nearby nursing home, we were both enrolled in a CNA course. Their free training program to become a certified nursing assistant would last eight weeks. That’s where I met Tammy.

I envied her. She was tall, blond and gorgeous. She gave off the impression of being well-organized.


Around 10:30 one morning, Mrs. Rogers gave us our customary break. Tammy stayed with me as the other girls walked outside to smoke. She wore one-inch heels (not that she required them), matching trousers, and a soft pink shirt. She pulled her golden hair high into a tidy bun. She never overdid it and always looked put together. She carried herself confidently, or so I thought.

 “Would it be possible for us to speak alone?’ She trembled when she spoke. Fighting tears.

“My father hates me, and I think I was adopted.”  She cried.  “I don’t look nothing like my parents.”

I was at a loss for words. All that came out was “Oh my.”

“For this job, I asked my mom for my birth certificate, but she refused to give it to me.” She lowered her head and really broke down.

She described to me how she was treated like an outcast by her family. Her father paid her no attention. Two of her children lived with their fathers. The other two with her parents. Her calls went unanswered, even by her closest sibling. It seemed as though she had no one.

All that external beauty vanished as she spoke. I saw her soul – wounded and shattered. At the age of 23, I was clueless about how to console her. So I just sat listening.


After three weeks or so, Tammy invited Miranda, another girl, to hang out after class on a Friday. Miranda drove us home in her pickup truck. Tammy and Miranda’s sister, Sherry, rode in the back, while I sat with her in the front. The home roads meandered through steep slopes and curves. Miranda drove at a casual 80 miles per hour, as if she were racing. I held on to the door rigidly.

Tammy, meanwhile, was standing on the truck’s bed, joking, shouting, and laughing while waving to strangers in their yards. She did not fear anything.

We eventually got to her place. We chatted and laughed late into the night. Tammy had abandoned the program that following Monday. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I continued with the program.


A few weeks later, I happened to see her while at a neighbor’s house. She was on her way across the freeway to the mailbox. On the dusty road where we both resided, I waited for her.

“How are you?” I inquired.

“I’m doing well. How about you?”

I said, “Good, good,” and then I stopped. “Hey, I wanted to tell you about that day those girls from the nursing home gave us a ride home.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know Miranda was driving eighty miles an hour?”

“Really?” Her gaze expanded. “I could have been killed.” 

 I gave a nod. “But neither of them finished, so I don’t expect them to come back.”

Tammy grinned. “Well, I have some positive news. I called one of those psychic hotlines. She told me that I would meet a tall, dark stranger before Christmas. Given my boyfriend’s black hair and other features, I believe it to be Tom. Perhaps we will soon tie the knot.”

“That’s fantastic,” I smiled. “I’m glad for you.”

After a quick hug, she walked back down the gravel road to her house.


Christmas hadn’t arrived yet. It was just a December day that was abnormally warm. I was preparing to go to work, dressed in my whites. While my brother and his friend Robert changed the oil in his car, I sat on the couch, smoked, and looked out the front window.

“Hi!” my brother exclaimed.

I watched Tammy’s red Cavalier zoom by in slow motion. As usual, she waved her arm out the window.

After extinguishing my cigarette, I turned, and suddenly there was a crash.

“Holy crap!” Robert shouted. “She was struck! She was struck!

“She got hit! She got hit!”  My brother yelled.

I ran outside and sped towards the highway, trying not to lose my breath. Already, cars were backing up. In an attempt to free her, my brother and Robert had opened the passenger side of her vehicle.

The small automobile was forced into the ditch after an RV crashed into the driver’s side. The grass was littered with white envelopes and mailboxes.

“I didn’t see her,” the RV’s driver repeated and paced.

I saw her body lying on the ground. In an attempt to console her, Tom’s father knelt next to her. Her golden hair matted crimson. Her little body was broken and trembling. Her eyes never opened.

I went cold. That could have been me. She was just 29.

Wake up. Wake up.

Paramedics arrived. A chopper touched down. They flew her away. I never saw her again.

I stood there contemplating. Drained. She met her tall, dark stranger, I believe.


This is a real tale. Every name was altered, with the exception of Tammy’s. She had an incredible amount of potential and was authentic. She had an ambition of working in a trauma unit at a hospital.

Now, the dream seems tragically fitting.

I’ve carried this with me for years. I regret not having done more. When she most needed hope, I wish I had prayed with her, shared my faith, and introduced her to Jesus. Being young and recently baptized, I was unsure of how to proceed.

However, I have prayed to God for forgiveness. Don’t wait if you ever find yourself with someone who is lost. Speak up. Say a prayer. Share the truth.

You could be their only hope.

What I’ll Do When I Retire: A Personal Journey

Well, I am not retired YET, but in 3 years I can retire from my 9 to 5. So I wanted to share how I plan on spending my days when I don’t have that daily grind.

For 25 years now I have been working, planning, and dreaming of retirement. And when it finally begins—and I’m determined to enjoy every minute of it. No more early meetings, no more rushed lunches, no more weekends lost to work stress. Every day will be mine to shape, and I carved out a routine that will balance movement, creativity, and a little hustle. Here’s how I plan on spending that new chapter of life.

Mornings on the Southwest Trail

Each day will start with something that clears my head and gets my body moving: a ride down the Southwest Trail. If you haven’t seen my review videos of it and what the trail is all about then see the video below. It will the perfect way to begin—quiet, scenic, and just challenging enough to remind me I’m alive and still kicking. The fresh air, the rhythm of the wheels on the pavement, and the peace of an early morning ride will be my favorite kind of meditation. It will set the tone for the rest of the day: focused, steady, and open to whatever comes. As time allows, I will make more videos where I show you the trail.

Writing My Novel

After my ride, it’ll be time to chase a different kind of dream. I will finally have time to write the novel that’s been living in my head for years. No more saying “someday.” I will brew some coffee, sit down at my desk, and dive into the world I’m creating. Some days I know the words will flow easily; other days they won’t. But I’m going to show up anyway. There’s something deeply satisfying about building a story one page at a time. It’s work—but it’ll be the kind I love. Here is a video I did in April 2024 that has only gotten 18 views on Youtube.

A Quick Scroll Through Social Media and playing Catch-Up

Mid-morning, I’ll take a break and catch up on the world. I check my social media—not obsessively, but just enough to stay connected. It’ll fun to see what friends are up to, write a blogpost her on my wordpress site for a quick update, and maybe post a photo from the trail or a snapshot of my writing nook. I’ll try not to let it take over my day, but it’ll be a nice way to stay plugged in.

Treasure Hunting for My Flea Market Booth

One of my more expected retirement joys will be hunting for things to resell at a flea market booth. I don’t know where that will be yet, whether it will be an actual location or online, but I will hit thrift stores, estate sales, and garage sales with a sharp eye and a bit of intuition. It’s part scavenger hunt, part business. I love the thrill of finding something unique and giving it new life. Plus, it keeps a little money flowing—and gives me a reason to dig through old boxes and bargain with strangers or make new friends.

Cooking, Cleaning, and Enjoying the Simple Stuff

The evenings will be more relaxed. I plan on spending time in the kitchen, trying out recipes I never had time for before. Some days it might just be a sandwich and soup; other days, I go all out. I will also make time to clean up, keep the house in shape, and appreciate the slower pace. It will feel good to take care of my space and myself without rushing.

Retirement doesn’t mean doing nothing. For me, it will mean doing more of what I love—on my own terms (without a boss).