One of my happiest days.
“Angie has so much potential. I hope she will work hard to achieve the maximum.”
5th grade, studied Self Actualized Leadership, World Community Systems, Communication & The Media, Science Technology & Energy Sciences, Geometry and Spatial Relationships.
Only satisfactorily respects the ideas and opinions of others and expresses ideas clearly. Noted; something’s don’t change much.
In fifth grade they said I’d never finish, and in 8th grade I knew they were right. In 9th grade I dropped out to go to college, but they wouldn’t let me in until I was 16. Thus I started college on December 1, 1995.
My last “good” report card: Note the number of absences. Never was good at sitting still when bored out of my mind. I have crazy feet, Dr. Seuss diagnosed me so.
Of course, the Mona Lisa, The Beatles, Judy Blume, and Scarlett Johanson remind me of you as well. You seem busy, in all the right ways. I’m glad. 🙂 It would be fun to get coffee with you this Saturday morning. Shall we plan on it? And, have fun with Roxie. 😉 Marlowe says “hi”.—Johnny Fernlund
Link: Hyperthymic Personality
Now, the better question would be, what if there is no depression? Can people just have mild mania? And the answer to that is at one level it appears that God or nature or Darwin or whoever evolved our brains or created our brains did it in such a way that it doesn’t seem that episodic, mild mania can happen by itself. It has not really been described that people can have intermittent hypomania and nothing else, no depression. It can happen, but it’s probably rare. Just having manic episodes without depressive episodes is reported in maybe 5 to 10 percent of bipolar patients, and we don’t really know if just having hypomanic episodes can happen.
Well endured some interesting sociological research, and feel like I need another two weeks to process. It’s the first time in a long time that my research has taken me to places I hadn’t expected. Continue reading
a homeless person called 911 & reported the client was “5150”
He took the word of the guy he labeled a “transient” “homeless person” over mine taking me while leaving the “homeless person” in my unlocked home…
Read along as I explain what happened the summer of 2011…
July 9, 2011
I’m taken in handcuffs, held and drugged against my will. I was released the next morning.
July 14, 2011
I was again taken, drugged and held against my will.
It is important to note that the paperwork refers to my “mother” who put me in—this is a lie. When my mother found out that I had been institutionalized and immediately bought a ticket to California to rescue me. See also my parents documentation regarding the events, notations regarding timelines and deceptions…
They refused to release me to my mother.
I was held until July 19, 2011 and released by the hospital “against recommendation” just prior to my case being heard by the judge. I was too tired to wait to see a judge to have my ‘case’ heard. So I accepted their offer of release ‘against their recommendation’ instead of waiting and taking my chances with the judge… at that moment being free was more important that exposing injustice.
The above person’s condition was called to my attention under the following circumstances:
Client invited a transient to live with her a week ago. This homeless person called 911 & reported the client was “5150”. Daniel Rhodes 940-217-7649.
Determined that client has not slept in past 3 days, eats little, irrational, talks non-stop to herself, & talks to people not present. Client stays in a tent in her spare room, & the bedding was odorous of urine. Birth mother, Arlene Baxley said client refused from CMH 3 days ago. Hyperactive, illogical and unable to sleep.
The following information has been established: (Please give sufficiently detailed information to support the belief that the person for whom evaluation and treatment is sought is in fact a danger to others, a danger to himself/herself and/or gravely disabled.)
Upon arrival client was hypomanic, hyperverbal, mostly incoherent & unresponsive, illogical, derailed thoughts, rambling, when asked her name she stated “just follow the river to the mountain.”
Birth Surrogate mother, knew client over 10 years stated “She not able to care for herself, she’s not safe, she’s not in the real world”, Barbara Yager, 803-487-1502. Barbara explained client in TX for anxiety since 2007 believes client is bipolar.
Based upon the above information it appears there is probable cause to believe that said person is, as a result of a mental disorder:
Client has no viable plan for self care.
⌧ Gravely disabled adult
As evaluated by,
Mike F. Hammer, LCSW #0494, 7/14/11 11:30am, 619-884-5149
Norther SDPD PERT, 1401 Broadway San Diego, CA 92130
Bringing Down the Hammer
What does it matter that if a person is transient or not when it comes to determining the case? “Daniel” has a driver’s license with a respectable address, is known in the neighborhood, and it’s simply Hammer’s judgmental attitude showing immediately in the documentation when he calls the person reporting a “transient”. (That’s “Daniel” photographed below.)
Likewise, you can’t say I invited him to live with me, and then call him homeless. As a matter of fact, he lived with me until the end of the summer. You see, after getting out I made sure I wasn’t going to have been punished for inviting a transient homeless man live with me and not actually have him live with me!
has not slept past 3 days
At this point it should be pointed out the confusion between Hammer referring to my “birth” mother and a “surrogate” mother, both individuals he refers to being in North Carolina, and thus says who, the homeless transient who lives with me? Meanwhile, ironically, not sleeping had everything to do with having been drugged against my will on July 9th, 2011.
My mother notes that I had a refrigerator full of food.
I had a friend, Lea Dennis, prepare some amazing food (see below) which stocked the refrigerator.
I’m also known for my routine coffee—and occasional pastry—at Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, to be followed by brunch at a diner, like Harry’s or Cass Street.
I plan my day around food.
Should I have to prove that I eat enough food so as not to be institutionalized? Whose right is it to judge me?—and on what days? To come into my home, and to take me away, and to hold me, and drug me, against my wishes?
My Mint.com transactions for the “Food & Dining” category for July 1, 2011 – July 15, 2011 are below.
I don’t have a surrogate mother.
I’m not, nor ever have been, bipolar. See my Mom’s notes on the false documentation. Saying a thing doesn’t make it so. Making lots of documentation about it doesn’t make it so. Institutionalizing me and treating me for it still doesn’t make it true.
So July 2011 overnight on the 9th, and from the 14th through the 19th I was held in mental institution under the recommendation of someone who called 911 from North Carolina about a person in California. This person was not my mother—my mother flew to California to rescue me, but San Diego County Psychiatric Hospital refused to release me, even to my mother’s care.
On July 19th rather than allowing me to see the judge they planned for the “AMA” release.
That’s my dog Roxie. I got her back, but we were only together for a few days before she died—run over before my eyes.
The cops would come to my door one more time that summer to threaten to take me away.
“Pet owner who is 5150 and is going to county mental health dog had marijuana and other poisons. Dog was on its side not responding when I first arrived. After a few min dog became alert.”
They tested her for drugs twice failing to find any evidence to substantiate Mike Hammer’s report. Roxie wasn’t unresponsive on her side when he arrived—she was resting in my lap. Hence, see, trouble: I was unable to allow Mike Hammer into my home, as I was sitting on the couch with my dog asleep on my lap… so, let’s talk about due process.
‘wow, I haven’t seen you since you were, like, a teenager!’ — Darryl messaged Angela
First Facebook message July 12, 2011 7:05pm
“Ang just thought she saw your Angela.” — Mom responds to Darryl
Momma responded July 20, 2011 5:13am
Via SMS; Accepted Facebook Friend Request: August 8, 2011 6:29am.
I saw her first.
Well I spent the day bumbling through my daily Bird Rock walk. The 3am walk with random neighbors brought me a philosophy student from Oxford and his two friends. We walked the darkness towards light as I wove the stories that keep the memories bright. Ever haunted by the corner where you turn left, inevitably to miss the home of my charming Chandler and the woman he loved.
We walked to our cultural center, known to the outside as Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, or just “Bird Rock” to us. I told the story of the families memories that haunt me, the jukebox that should be and the future that seems unsought.
Back home, I slept the rest of the night, as it seems I’m on a 4 hours on, 4 hours off schedule. I think about all the Microsoftie’s who brag on the few hours they can live on. I miss my eight solid hours. It seems the culprit may be the intense bright light across the street which shines in on my bedroom… well, until last night when a stranger took to removing the bulb leaving me to sleep in peace. I think of circadian rhythms and how my sleep cycle was affected by the lack of sun living in Seattle.
The day? Well, that’s the usual stuff you know. I went to Bird Rock, met and talked to the new people, the by now old friends. A potter chose a bike for me, as it’s obvious to all that I need a bike rack. Off I went in pursuit, first leaving my car to have the convertible repaired, on foot.
That’s when I ran into Loni and her puppies, and Rosie became Roxie as our bond formed in the serendipitous sunlight of the day.
My walk home (the bike abandoned, what would I do with a bike and a dog?!) was long but a labor of love. I wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible in transition. It’s so easy to see the “humaness” of an animal. Their eyes tell all, their body language. … I think of my own body language and wonder what it is that makes some so afraid of me while others so delighted.
I met the brains behind an outfit on Bird Rock’s main drag. I’ll leave that to later, as he may wish to introduce himself.
Rosie (not yet Roxie) and I crossed paths with a jogging Physics teacher from Bishops, and the day progressed into kind of intelligent conversation on which I thrive.
Here I am, 10pm and tired. A amber colored silken Roxie by my side, and thinking of how much more of the day I’ve failed to recount. I’m sure it’ll be fine, as tomorrow begins anew with more stories.
I’m looking forward to working my crew tomorrow. Plans are exceedingly underway. Larry comes in about three weeks from LA. Ori and Tara likely sooner. I go to San Francisco (oh, how I hate to leave my little stretch of Windansea/Bird Rock) to meet the founder of Burning man on the 19th. (Heads up you SF’ers!)
Time seems so short between now and Nicaragua. I can’t wait to see Gaia though. Turns out the physicist has the same plan, long term.
Most of all, I can’t wait to introduce Roxie to Kingston.
“If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.”—Dead Poets Society
My spirit carries no bruises, though my skin tells tales.
Tonight I lay my head down in peace, and Roxie lays her next to mine in a symbol of her humane love. I wonder if she misses her babies, as I adore mine.
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more.”—Lord Byron
“Angela, we have … to have you readmitted to the same mental institution you were subjected to by the San Diego Police Department last month.” https://t.co/LAAKGFyl8k
— Angela Marié Glass (@Ang) December 30, 2015
When I was dealing with the cops and they wanted to know why I didn’t feel safe at home, I responded “the devil slept in my bed”. Of course cops are far less imaginative than I am, and they took that to mean I was crazy. Thus I was taken away and locked up—and Curtis still runs free. Irony of life. See also, The Devil Slept in My Bed.
So I’ve kicked my former roommate out for being a world class do-nothing-all-day-stoner, and now have to deal with Curtiss Parker who find my apartment to be a mere extension of his own.
I would “scream him out of the house”, a drunkard who is drunk from the moment he gets up to the moment he apparently slips back under the rock from which he must have come (sorry Patricia, I’m not a fan of your son, he’s a world class creep—then again I imagine you’re not so proud of what he’s done to your family name either).
One of the instances is a lovely evening when I thought I was indeed alone in my apartment. I come out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and go to my bedroom. As I stepped over to my dresser, I dropped my towel on the bed and there, standing in all my naked beauty, I hear him coming.
He’s entered my home, and is approaching my mirrored bedroom. I start yelling at him to get out, and he—in an act?—drunkenly misunderstands.
On another occasion I was looking for a neighbor with a truck to help me pick up the mattress I purchased from Macy’s. John, Curtiss’ roommate was always a nice enough guy, and I had left a voicemail to see if he’d help me. Instead, my world-class awesome neighbor Aaron helped.
But I get home to find a disgusting used mattress circa 1980 which looks like it’s been pulled from the dumpster in my spare bedroom. He had entered my home while I was not there and put a used mattress in my home. I asked for help from one of the neighborhood kids and hoisted the disgusting thing back up to his door and blocked his door with it.
My landlord, Karen of Neptune Place, has done nothing to assist.
She sits as gossip queen passing on the latest of the slander I usually hear first from my neighbor informant. She believes everything. Whatever it is, obviously rejecting Curtiss wasn’t the greatest idea for my residency here. However, you’ve all noted that I’ve been being patient for quite a while. You see, I believe in people doing the right thing, and second chances.
One Saturday night I accepted a date from a stranger, a man I now refer to as ‘the Boo Radley’. I had already had plans to go see Gregory Page play at the Westgate, and so I met him for wine, and he joined me for the show…
When you fall in love, you can’t eat, you can’t sleep. But it didn’t happen quite like that, then again, this isn’t a story about falling in love. I love food, I love my sleep, and for the moment, I might have thought I loved him. Alas, while I ate with a passion, as I usually do, loved like it was for only a moment, as one should, I did indeed miss my sleep…
We’d met that weekend, a weekend of fireworks—hey! don’t judge—I say that with only a touch of corniness, it was July 4th, after all.
Give me a break, as much as this isn’t a love story, it is a crazy one, and as with the best of them, it begins with that classic boy-meets-girl moment. Continue reading
Stephen Jenvey, as per my style I am listening to waves crash to some
[thesaurus: words for beautiful sounds; retrieve:images, music; sort: color, timbre; todo:look for a better word here. i’m trying to capture how magical it is to be able to think freely and design the future because you can see clearly, now the rain is gone.]
does that designer language speak to your interface?
Poor guy. I’d never share the story, if it wasn’t a piece of the over all whole. In this case, the names have been changed to protect the already not-so-innocent.
I didn’t write the original email, btw. A friend wrote it based on my rant and emailed it ‘on my behalf’…
I’m not sure what went wrong exactly. 😉
On 4 July 2011 22:26, Angela M. Baxley wrote:
well so here’s the thing. i put in jimmy to address this email and hilariously i am reminded that you’re michael, not jimmy, which is actually the basis of what i’m emailing about.
we got along great online, through email, and meeting… but there have been a few things that haven’t quite settled yet in my mind.
first, let me begin by stating that authenticity is extremely important to me.
as you know, i have a very hard time remembering names, usually only doing so when i see it written and form an association of face with name. therein lies my first difficulty… you unwittingly created for me a very strong association to jimmy p. long. but that’s not you. i have to shake my head and double back to get it right. <alert! error in processing> Continue reading
Trying to capture all my thoughts is exhausting but seems necessary in my creative process. The connections I see forming, as I let my thoughts go rather than trying to focus them, are astounding. Continue reading
On Jul 2, 2011 5:11 am, Henrik V Blunck
If you could hear how my last name is pronounced by people in the United States you would get the answer to your problem.
Tetragrammaton YHWH when pronounced sounds like Yahweh, Yehowah, Yahowah. Almost all the same.
Yehowah in the English is Jehovah but should be Yehovah (or, YeHoWaH).