I’ve updated my professional page: /tech.
For more than two decades, I built systems — platforms that carried thousands of users, millions of views, real revenue, real communities. I worked long-term, often a decade at a time, stewarding projects from vision through collapse, always refusing to fragment my ethic from my work.
Oregon State Parks was the first institution I ever tried to integrate with. It was also the first to reject me — not for lack of skill, but through distortion, pathologization, and retaliation. That rejection was destabilizing, but it also revealed something:
- The same coherence that carried my freelance work became the threat inside their institution.
- The same refusal to fragment that built communities was punished as “instability.”
- The same systemic pattern-recognition that kept businesses alive was pathologized as “apocalyptic thinking.”
Their dismissal of me will likely be one of the costliest decisions they’ve ever made. What they assumed was erasure has instead become exposure.
Why This Matters
Updating this page widens the field. It shows that OPRD’s treatment of me wasn’t “inevitable,” or part of some personal failing. It was an anomaly — the only time in my career where sincerity and coherence were met with punishment instead of partnership.
Everywhere else, my work sustained. Their dismissal exposed them, not me.
The Archive as Continuity
This isn’t about nostalgia or resume-polishing. It’s about coherence across contexts: the systems I built, the resilience I carried, the field I still hold.
What I build now must be ethical, sovereign, alive to the field we actually live in — because the systems around us cannot sustain themselves.
This update is now part of the Honeyman record, because the two are inseparable: my life’s work of building systems, and the institution that tried — and failed — to erase me.