False advertising

Make-up

By V. Martin

Wake-up women and stop being depentant on make up to feel good about yourselves.

Isn’t that part of the problem? We tell girls to love themselves the way they are then in the same breathe we tell them they can only achieve this by putting this mask on every time we leave the house. It’s these messages that confuse young ladies and make them question their self worth.

Make-up, in my opinion is false advertising. 

Most men I’ve met don’t like make-up. They can’t even tell we have any on until they find it on their shirt and sheets, if you happen to get lucky. After a life time of wearing the stuff I’ve decided that we don’t wear make-up to attacked men but we wear it for other women. It’s like war paint.

Only other women are going to judge you, men are just trying to decide if, when, and how long they are going to fuck you. Believe me, make-up has nothing to do with it! What really bugs other women is not wearing make-up at all. This they don’t understand. Real confidence doesn’t need make-up. Unfortunately, when commerce is king even our self image is up for sale. What we may want to think about is all the people no children we could be helping with the money we spend on make-up. If I had all the money I’ve spent on make-up over the years, I could have fed many children with that money!

I’ve been very selfish all my life, thinking only of myself and my unbarable pain. Guess what it is barable but what isn’t is how I’ve done nothing to help others. I shouldn’t talk because I still buy and wear make-up but not everyday, every other maybe and I have yet to help anyone with the money I save. I am thinking about it, though.

My IQ badge

Most people will not want to believe this but I am very intelligent. I didn't cheat nor have I ever cheated on any test in my life.

The people in Phoenix, Az claim I cheated on the IQ test I took when I was 11 but I didn't. They refuse to give me the correct IQ score from that test. So far they gave 118 because I was guessing at what it was and said I thought it was 118-138 so they posted on Facebook it is 118. After taking several other IQ tests, all higher then the ones this place is trying to hang on me. With that in mind, I will ask again to please give me my real IQ. Any moron would know it has to be higher than 110-118 for them to claim I cheated. No one would risk cheating for a lame score like that so give me my real score because I didn't cheat. If it makes you feel any better, here's a recent score from a free online test I took. I did't cheat on this one either.

PS. I knew those blocks wouldn't fit into the board because I saw another kid trying to put them in the holes and none of them fit so I didn't bother trying when it was my turn. You asked me why I wasn't playing with them and I told you that none of them would fit so why should I bother? If you had asked me how I knew they wouldn't fit I would have told you, but you didn't. Apparently, you didn't like that answer and told my adopted mother I was cheating, which is not true, I didn't cheat so give me my real score, please! 

While going to college one of my professors ask us the first question on this IQ test and I was the only one who got it right. Well, I got it right but thought too much about it and Xed out the right answer then wrote the wrong one next to it. If I remember correctly my first answer was B which was "yes" to the question and "C" was no. 

What "If"?

It's Not Just A Function

By V. Martin

Understand, that all I'm suggesting is to think about it, I am. Most likely, I'm wrong but in the spirit of all minds on the planet, "I think there for I am". That alone makes me want to argue that plants are, animals are, planets, stars, matter, gasses, elements they all exist but do they think?
It might be better that I don't because here's some of what rolls through my mind. Everyone has as much right to be who they are as much as anyone else. It should not matter if someone chooses or is born "that way" or "this way." It doesn't make it more right or more wrong to be gay then to be straight. Choice or not it's who some people are and that is enough for me!!!!! As a society we weren't going to change collectively until a gene was discovered. For some reason we find it o.k. to violate each other in the most horrific ways when someone displays a personality unlike what is deemed "normal" by society.  But blame it on "god" and now it's even popular to be gay. That's great for those who choose that life style or are born that way. My concern is for those who are made by way of abuse. There are still those that are made gay by means of abuse and their voice is getting drowned out by the "god made gays". Not that anyone should be made to feel less important or less celebrated as a human being. I am worried about what kind of a message this is sending to children and there unique ability to see through the bullshit adults try to cram down their throats. The child that doesn't speak up because now they are being told they are born that way might suffer longer.  They may be trying to tell someone about the abuse only to be misunderstood and instead of protecting them they are told yet again by a trusted adult that it's o.k. to be gay. Of course all the child hears is that it's their fault they are being abused because they were born gay. Even if you're gay no one should lay hands on you unless you're an adult and consenting.

The last thing a kids want to hear from adults is that we can't protect them because the powers that be have a process they must follow. Kids and their concern for their safety just isn't important enough for the grown ups to cut through all the red tape, put in place by who and for whom? By adults, to protect more adults that are suppose to protect our children. I mean don't we constantly put them off as they are growing up? How many times do we tell them that we are too busy or too tired to pay them attention? You know what the child hears? You are not important enough for me to get off my lazy ass and do something with. Or not important enough to even look up from the device in your hand and watch as they dazzle you with whatever feat they just mastered. They only require a few minutes and a few encouraging words to feel like number one, like they matter.

Push Option

The People Pound

orphanages/foster care

 by V. Martin

For the lowest of the low,

where the unwanted go

the human lost and found.

I call it the people pound.

I spent a lot of time there

since there was no one to care

when I was a child.

I ran a little wild.

Sure, most of the time I'd rather be dead

but I'm a coward if the truth be said.

So I suck it up the best I can,

But seriously, does anyone have a plan?

If you do, would you let me take a look?

Because as it is I can write a book.

The book of self-destruction:

How to hate yourself yet still function.

because if I don't it's back to the people pound

Where they always take me, lost and never found.

This is not what I expected to find here. If memory serves, which its not) this should contain a piece I wrote on how foster kids or at least the one that age out of the system are considered a push option on the market. This thought first came to me when I was issued by the state of Indiana this slip of paper with Cirtificate of Birth printed at the top then my name date of birth and my adopted mothers name and the seal of the state of Indiana. That's it nothing more, no feet prints, no ribbon, no mention of a father or grandparents. On a really ugly yellow piece of paper. Push options are what someone buys when betting against a company's success. That is what kids that age out of the system are considered and betting against them is like money in the bank. How else are we going to off set the millions, no billions of dollars they suck out of the system every year? This is what society has come to? Can't we no we have to do better then this! If we could look back at all the time that has passed between now and the moment we could have still made a difference to future generations and yet we chose and choose to do nothing different!

We hear the cry of the opressed but don't even look to see where its coming from. Society slowly suffocates anyone and everyone it deems insuferable, a waste of flesh, a loser, not contributing to society, draining resources, and on and on. These people don't even have an address let alone a voice! Orphans that live to age out of the system usually end up in an institution, jail, or cemetary, or homeless. It's funny because whenever any TV show deals with a homeless person they have a family, usually a veteran, alcoholic, black but in reality most are orphans and white. At least the long term homeless because as usual no one cares about them. They are the professional homeless that no one likes nor knows what to do with because no one cares. I CARE!!!! I CARE!!!! REALLY! I CARE! Please don't leave this world thinking no one cares because I do. Not that makes a bit of difference to you, it has made all the difference in mine. Where ever I am you are with me, you matter to me! No matter what you have done in the past, I forgive you as long as you never do it again. Your names I don't know but your pain is my pain your joy is my joy. You are all I think about, night and day. I dream about meeting all of you someday, for you are my children, the unwanted ones. I want you!!!! I need you! I can't keep pretending that I don't know your suffering. You are not alone, I am with all of you, you are a part of me, you make me who I am and give me the will to live to go on so I can make a difference to all of you. Even if its all I have to give are these words I put out into syber space may never reach anyone because none of you probably have a computer or phone or internet. To reach you I may have to find another way but if anyone that reads this knows any orphans or homeless people read this to them please. They are all I have and I need them to know this. Thank you in advance.

#ME3#

18 is The Scariest Age

by V. Martin 2018

 Most kids can't wait to turn eighteen it's a mile stone in a persons life. Legally you're an adult, responsible for yourself but some are still in high school having turned eighteen during the school year. Imagine being put out on the street on your birthday with no place to go and no way to get there. You have no cell phone, less than $100 to your name, no job, no family to turn to, nothing.  You don't even have a high school diploma or GED. When you're a child in the foster care system, everyday is scary, this doesn't happen to every child in the system but more often then not. You never know what to expect so you learn to expect the worst.
With that in mind, you're approaching your eightieth birthday finally legally an adult.  Your own person with ...?  You don't even have a drivers license, let alone a car. As soon as you turn eighteen, legally an adult, you no longer have a place to live.  The foster home you've been able to live with for the past six months or so can't afford to support you without the state's funds.  You weren't allowed to get a driver's license or work full time while in school.  The job you use to work after school is no longer available since it was passed on to a younger student.  You want to go to college or a trade school but that possibility fades along with everything you know.  No where to go no car to get there no family to reach out to no home to even go to, you don't even have a cell phone.  Odds are not in your favor, once on the street you do what you have to to survive, if you survive.

When a married couple gets a divorce and they have joint custody of their children who ever pays child support does so until they are nineteen.  Why then are foster children cut off, sometimes completely, from resources like a place to live?  It seems to me these kids don't stand a chance because they're not even given one.  I get not letting you drive because of the liability and insurance but can't some big automobile manufactures help out with that and assist in supplying discounted vehicles?  It takes a village so gather the villagers to care for these kids, collectively.  In the long run it will only serve to save them money and the crime rate would probably drop.  The drug epidemic would be over, society as a whole would heal.  We need to be our bothers keepers but not to keep him down instead we need to lift him up, collectively.  As a whole the children will be able to pick the best society has to offer be it the janitor at school or the CEO of the company that sponsors their transition from froster care to a message runner for a big Wall Street firm.  No car necessary but a valid ID, social security card, and a fast bicycle will be needed for your future.  At least now you have one. 

Maybe we should rename the "foster care system"  to the #Me3#.  Because take it from me when I tell you these kids know they have a voice but believe even if they are heard no one will listen.  Worse then that is the conditioning it takes to get you to believe the way you're being treated is normal.  Can you imagine believing it's normal to have your foster Dad slip into your bed every night to sexually assault you.  Before you can even think about telling anyone you're being called names of the worst kind, degrading you, conditioning you.  The foster care system is a predators dream come true.  There are people out there that don't want to abuse their own children, for obvious reason.  Maybe they would have to answer to the other parent or who knows, that's were you come in.  You prepped for your new role in your new family by constantly being reminded how lucky you are to have a family like theirs to take you in.  How some people are so mean and even abusive in the worst possible ways.  How grateful you must feel to them for everything they are doing for you as they slip some drug into your juice.  You know what comes next and more and more of the same.  Until you don't even know what day it is or wether it's day or night nor do you care.  You stopped doing that the first night.   

It happens so frequently it becomes the norm.  No, not just normal but expected.  So much so that any other kind of treatment makes you hurt so bad you can't even take a breath. When kindness has been absent from your life for so long any act of kindness is such a contrast from what is now normal it makes your head flip flop, your heart swallow, your throat beat, and your stomach spin.  It can literally save you or kill you! It's almost like starving but not from food but from humanity and too much at once will send you over the edge.
Anyway, a year more would make all the difference in the world for these kids. A year to get a drivers license, a phone, a car, a job, or get enrolled in college or trade school. My point being is that in most cities a car in absolutely necessary to get a job and/or go to school. 

TheOtherSideOfThePancake

No Matter How Flat The Pancake, it Still has Two Sides

 by V. Martin 2018

    This is to my adopted extended family, Halls, Martins, and others, by marriage. After 35 years my adopted mother found me. She had adopted me when I was 12 and she was 39 and single. They, DES, didn't normally let single people adopt but mine wasn't a normal case. Having been in the system for over six years and as many foster homes because the last one kept me for almost 3 years. Anyway, my adopted mother soon after met her future husband and that was the end of the beginning for me.

      Don't get me wrong, I knew it for what it was and maybe that's why Phyllis, my adopted mom, and Frank, who never adopted me, believe it was my choice not be part of the "family" anymore. The same reason people want to kill the messenger when the message isn't what they want to hear. There was nothing I could do about the decisions being made about me. I was only 14-15 years old. 
I didn't go out of my way to behave badly, I never did anything but what normal teenagers do. My Mom was being pressured by her new husband, your father, so she started building a history to support disowning me. If my Mom and Frank were planning on keeping me, his three daughters and I would have been introduced to one another. As it was, never, not in the three years they were married before I was disowned did I meet his kids. 

    Phyllis built a history by admitting me to the psych ward at Phoenix Camelback Hospital. The first time was understandable, I got caught shop lifting and couldn't face telling my Mom, I was so embarrassed. Rather then face her I decide killing myself was a better option. Never did it occur to me to run away. Funny but seriously, the thought never even entered my mind. My attempt was half assed, obviously, it failed and I was admitted to the hospital. There I stayed for two months where they never put me on any medications or diagnosed me with any disorders. I was fourteen and still a virgin and drugs were something I thought you got at the drug store. I hadn't even gotten drunk or had a sip of alcohol.

So doing drugs and/or drinking was not even on my list of things to do. As a matter of fact it wasn't until the second time she admitted me that I started smoking cigarettes. 

    For the second time she admitted me because the girl across the street from her house and I got drunk for the first time together. To this day I haven't had as much fun or laughed as much or as hard as I did when Kristian and I got drunk off her Grandma's booze. We road our bicycles all over the place but then couldn't find our way home so I called my Mom, Phyllis. The lady who was the Mother of some girl, I think Kristian knew, had to tell Mom where we were and she came and got us. It was before ten pm, my curfew, so I thought I was in the clear, as far as being in trouble was concerned. Not the case. Right back to the hospital the very next day for another two months. This time they diagnosed me with being emotionally handicapped. This was at Phyllis's insistence, needing something on record to explain what she does next.

Instead of bringing me home this time she transfers me to a residential treatment facility in south Phoenix. There I remained for eleven months, where they didn't know what to do with me having never done drugs, never had sex, and only been drunk once. The other girls were all alcoholics, drug addicts and/or prostitutes so the program was designed around these problems. So they came up with a program just for me, part of which was going to public school. Something they had never done before. All the kids went to school on grounds which was close to being home schooled but with the whole neighborhood. This place was located in South Phoenix some of the worst neighborhoods in Phoenix and I had to leave before dawn to get to the bus on time. Fourteen years old at three to four in the morning walking the streets in South Phoenix to catch a bus to go to high school at North high. 

     Eventually, they discharged me and I went home, where by this time I wasn't welcome. My curfew on the weekend was 10pm and all my friends were allowed to stay out until midnight. Being the mature young lady that I thought I was I called a family meeting and pitched my cause. Explaining how unfair it was and that none of my friends want to come home 2 hours early. They just weren't hearing me, so I asked if we could get counseling? 
Phyllis picked me up after school telling me we were going to DES to get counseling. That was just a ruse to get me to go along willingly. Frank was to meet us there, she said, when I asked. When we got there she led me to a room with a window next to the door. As soon as I was in the room she turned around and without a word left me there. I watched as she disappeared around the corner, stunned, not sure what to think, do, or feel. So I went to my default setting, no feeling, no caring, no nothing. JustNumb. This is a very brief, detached account of what happened because most likely you won't believe me anyway so why invest anymore?

     Hopefully, this clarifies things a little bit more. Of course, this is my perspective, these are my memories of what happened. Since it did happen to me, my memories are probably more accurate then Frank's or Phyllis's. They have good reason for remembering things the way they do and I'm not saying they are wrong. But they are wrong letting anyone believe I chose to leave home because that is simply not true. I never ran away from home! What the fuck? Adopt me, get married, disown me, then move your new husband's daughter in to take my place. Years later look me up just so you can blame me for what you did? 

Not to mention the fact that the last place anyone, who's been in the foster care system, wants to go, is go back into the system!!!!! This is a fact, ask anyone.
    

What were they hoping I'd forget?
If they think Grandma doesn't know that they, my parents, lied to get them, my grandparents, to disown me they are wrong; She knows.

          

scientific notation; Together, love is forever.

Together, love is forever! Hearts squared equal eternity!!!!

By Vonia Martin

I wasn't the first to think of the equation love squared equals eternity but I am the first to put it in scientific notation. 

I've decided on a compromise; heart squared equals eternity.

              The evolution of the equation in scientific notation cr2017

Thank you V. Martin 2018

No one will give me credit for this however, because it interferes with their idea of who I'm suppose to be. I'm suppose to be stupid poor white trailer trash without an original idea in my head.  So keep your stupid equation, I'll just redefine mine. Heart cubed equals eternity because children are our only form of immortality.

Okay, maybe I'm a little bitter!

This has been an evolutionary process. One that I have given birth to, raised, allowed to grow, listened to, understood its greatness, didn't over think mine, and so came fouth its true meaning. Together, love is forever! Meaning if we would as awhole decide to love one another even if we don't understand each other, might be able to at least tolorate each other.  Differences are what makes a curious about what we don't know similarities are what makes those differences a conection instead of a disagreementcelebrated its individuality,