Thursday, October 31, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The ACA - It is worth being patient
The Affordable Care Act is an excellent concept which pools most Americans into the health care system. Yet, only if it follows basic insurance theory will it be successful (theories and rules which republicans do not mention). The primary theory is that it is best to pool risk amongst the largest group available. Secondarily, you must make sure that pool is not encouraged through "adverse risk", the idea that those who may persevere are those most likely to be "at risk". This secondary theory now threatens Obama's implementation of the ACA.
Bureaucrats, in the rush to meet the ACA deadlines, along with delayed pursuit by States, Insurance Companies, funding from Congress, debating in Congress and amongst bureaucrats, and delaying tactics employed elsewhere likely has impacted backend testing of the highly complex system proposed in the "Website" and "Back End" systems necessary to include Health Insurance Companies with various premium rates X the number of states X gender X Age X Income X premium support X various other values in a complicated matrix.
I would urge everyone to take a breath. Few people, initially, could ever correctly answer a complex mathematical question the first time around. Certainly, rushing to market was not a wise choice, however it was necessitated by those who would prefer the ACA never see the light of day. Yet, it is important that those who believe Affordable Access to Health Care is important to encourage others that without the ACA, health premium increases would be growing substantially faster than it currently is.
Without ACA, we would have not have a solution for 45 million uninsured Americans except emergency room visits at 300% of the regular costs.
In the next few years, without the ACA, internationally, American companies would be at an increasingly distinct disadvantage in economic competitiveness due to rapidly rising health care costs from those 45 million uninsured. Hospitals simply spread that cost to the paying public. America is the only country in the developed world where companies bear significant health care costs for their employees. In every other country, it is borne across the breadth of its citizenry.
The ACA provides a framework of inclusion, a method of managing rising health care costs, it assists to mitigate disease through normative care programs, it saves jobs, helps our companies remain competitive in the global economy, while helping those who did not have access to health care.
All in all, a very good law. The technology just has to catch up to the concepts.
Bureaucrats, in the rush to meet the ACA deadlines, along with delayed pursuit by States, Insurance Companies, funding from Congress, debating in Congress and amongst bureaucrats, and delaying tactics employed elsewhere likely has impacted backend testing of the highly complex system proposed in the "Website" and "Back End" systems necessary to include Health Insurance Companies with various premium rates X the number of states X gender X Age X Income X premium support X various other values in a complicated matrix.
I would urge everyone to take a breath. Few people, initially, could ever correctly answer a complex mathematical question the first time around. Certainly, rushing to market was not a wise choice, however it was necessitated by those who would prefer the ACA never see the light of day. Yet, it is important that those who believe Affordable Access to Health Care is important to encourage others that without the ACA, health premium increases would be growing substantially faster than it currently is.
Without ACA, we would have not have a solution for 45 million uninsured Americans except emergency room visits at 300% of the regular costs.
In the next few years, without the ACA, internationally, American companies would be at an increasingly distinct disadvantage in economic competitiveness due to rapidly rising health care costs from those 45 million uninsured. Hospitals simply spread that cost to the paying public. America is the only country in the developed world where companies bear significant health care costs for their employees. In every other country, it is borne across the breadth of its citizenry.
The ACA provides a framework of inclusion, a method of managing rising health care costs, it assists to mitigate disease through normative care programs, it saves jobs, helps our companies remain competitive in the global economy, while helping those who did not have access to health care.
All in all, a very good law. The technology just has to catch up to the concepts.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
It's been two months, Carleton. I'm adjusting but it is not fun.
Carleton,
I went to the LGBT Center Gala last night. The one you and I had hoped to attend together. It was a festive night. Everyone asked how I was doing. I told them I was okay. Yet, every now and again, I noticed someone watching me to make sure I was. There are pictures from it. You would have said I was handsome. I wish you had been there. I helped sponsor a table and promised Delores that I was still raising money in your name to assist other young men with support services. The Carleton Cannon Memorial Fund has raised over $1,500 for services to men like you.
It has been two months since the day when you and I made the decision that you would surrender and depart this world. I did get angry I didn't get more time that day just to hug you, but you took me at my word and worked so hard to encourage others that day. While angry I did not get more time, I was proud of how you faced your end. I can only hope that I will be so brave.
Your brother reached out to me last week, your mother a couple weeks before that. I have checked in with Sean and with your Aunt. My office watches me. Rene stops by nearly every day. The first two weeks were debilitating. The weeks following were frustratingly hindered with shadows of regret, loneliness, frustration, and the pain.
The GSDBA board is just relieved my brain started functioning two weeks back after the grief hiatus. At least I can function in leadership capacities again for my volunteer work and for my clients as well.
You know I am not incapacitated, but every day there is always something that reminds me that you are not here, that you died, that I must face that reality. I returned a few weeks ago from Palm Springs. It was shocking to realize that I expected to see you as I opened the door to the apartment, as I have done so many other times. I simply was stunned as it seemed voices in my head were in shock and just then realized you were gone, for good. Even a trip to the grocery store impacted the loss. Small and big thing cause me to pause, think of you, grieve, tear up, stop a moment, before I push forward. Whether it is forgetting the mail you always picked up, the notes left different place, your hand writing, or the last two voice mails on my phone I cannot erase yet.
While it has been two months, at times it seems so much longer. Perhaps that is how it feels to be tortured. It is daily, yet the moments stand still as we become stuck in those individual seconds in that moment. And, with each of those seconds, it takes energy and strength to move past them to return to the present.
At times, it feels like it was just yesterday that we sat around and laughed, walked, and worried. I just changed the sheets on the bed. I have only your things in the wallet to go through. It lies on the table in the bedroom. Truly, I am unable to go through it. I wonder how long it will be before I address it. I have photos for your Dad and Mom to deliver. I still need to shut off your phone number. I can't bring myself to use your phone for some reason even though it performs way better than mine. I can't even bring myself to watch Elementary or NCIS Los Angeles, because we always promised to watch it together. Silly, I know. But, we did keep our promises.
The last two months have been easier and harder than I ever imagined. Thank you for communicating to others that you worried I would not do well without you. It made me laugh, but made them respond. Both reactions I welcomed and it has been helpful.
I wish you were still here. But, with the amount of pain you had, the struggles we had in the last 6 months, I would continue to make the same decision we made together August 20th. And, I am glad your mom, Linda, made it with us.
Peace, my love, enjoy the new time you can spend with your grandpa. I know he was the first face you saw after God. Though, I fear my Dad may have been the second.
I miss you and so do your friends and family. We will not fill the space you created in our hearts. So we do what we can to live with that space, stirring those memories so that the space in that emptiness does not become stale.
Peace,
Eric
I went to the LGBT Center Gala last night. The one you and I had hoped to attend together. It was a festive night. Everyone asked how I was doing. I told them I was okay. Yet, every now and again, I noticed someone watching me to make sure I was. There are pictures from it. You would have said I was handsome. I wish you had been there. I helped sponsor a table and promised Delores that I was still raising money in your name to assist other young men with support services. The Carleton Cannon Memorial Fund has raised over $1,500 for services to men like you.
It has been two months since the day when you and I made the decision that you would surrender and depart this world. I did get angry I didn't get more time that day just to hug you, but you took me at my word and worked so hard to encourage others that day. While angry I did not get more time, I was proud of how you faced your end. I can only hope that I will be so brave.
Your brother reached out to me last week, your mother a couple weeks before that. I have checked in with Sean and with your Aunt. My office watches me. Rene stops by nearly every day. The first two weeks were debilitating. The weeks following were frustratingly hindered with shadows of regret, loneliness, frustration, and the pain.
The GSDBA board is just relieved my brain started functioning two weeks back after the grief hiatus. At least I can function in leadership capacities again for my volunteer work and for my clients as well.
You know I am not incapacitated, but every day there is always something that reminds me that you are not here, that you died, that I must face that reality. I returned a few weeks ago from Palm Springs. It was shocking to realize that I expected to see you as I opened the door to the apartment, as I have done so many other times. I simply was stunned as it seemed voices in my head were in shock and just then realized you were gone, for good. Even a trip to the grocery store impacted the loss. Small and big thing cause me to pause, think of you, grieve, tear up, stop a moment, before I push forward. Whether it is forgetting the mail you always picked up, the notes left different place, your hand writing, or the last two voice mails on my phone I cannot erase yet.
While it has been two months, at times it seems so much longer. Perhaps that is how it feels to be tortured. It is daily, yet the moments stand still as we become stuck in those individual seconds in that moment. And, with each of those seconds, it takes energy and strength to move past them to return to the present.
At times, it feels like it was just yesterday that we sat around and laughed, walked, and worried. I just changed the sheets on the bed. I have only your things in the wallet to go through. It lies on the table in the bedroom. Truly, I am unable to go through it. I wonder how long it will be before I address it. I have photos for your Dad and Mom to deliver. I still need to shut off your phone number. I can't bring myself to use your phone for some reason even though it performs way better than mine. I can't even bring myself to watch Elementary or NCIS Los Angeles, because we always promised to watch it together. Silly, I know. But, we did keep our promises.
The last two months have been easier and harder than I ever imagined. Thank you for communicating to others that you worried I would not do well without you. It made me laugh, but made them respond. Both reactions I welcomed and it has been helpful.
I wish you were still here. But, with the amount of pain you had, the struggles we had in the last 6 months, I would continue to make the same decision we made together August 20th. And, I am glad your mom, Linda, made it with us.
Peace, my love, enjoy the new time you can spend with your grandpa. I know he was the first face you saw after God. Though, I fear my Dad may have been the second.
I miss you and so do your friends and family. We will not fill the space you created in our hearts. So we do what we can to live with that space, stirring those memories so that the space in that emptiness does not become stale.
Peace,
Eric
Monday, October 14, 2013
The Muse of Music and My Visit to the Dark Area of My Mind
Today, as most days, songs occupy the inner region of my mind. A chorus will spring up, a trio, a soloist, a rythmn. Numerous times it can be one song repeated over again until it is sung. Other times, it is a thematic display represented by many forms of our diverse musical repetoire.
Tonight, at the crux of reliving some recent memories, Peter Paul and Mary started to sing. Yet, instead of the usual movement of poignant love, somehow the tune threw me into a swirling mix of emotion as Mary and I changed perspective, Carleton came face to face with me, and sang one verse, then I another. Quickly, reality met loved loss, with my barriers of responsibility crumbling and those pang of hurt and disorder being held back joined with the fragments of regret and anger.
The discordant music clashed, causing poised cords to clash in calamity, jarring my control and eliciting anguish as memories accused me and begged me to connect.
Usually, I find the depths of my memory and the vast music repetoire ensconced in my soul assists me to cope with the vagaries of others and the circumstances life can throw my way. Usually music is capable of moving me past hurts, quickly through terrors, and rescues me from that area, that prison where pain, loneliness, worry and depression are confined in my being. Those dark thoughts are restrained and left starved in that small space. Those feelings, the dark history is banished there along with past harmful thoughts.
Yet, when I am at my weariest, or when I venture too close to that restricted prison where regret reigns, or an event throws me near to the lair of mistakes and the morose, the Muse of Music acknowledges their presence. While they speak, Music stirs the survivors of those imprisoned terrorists of my inner strength and peace into a chorus of morose communication, a choir of terrible consequence, which can rob me of my pride and my strength, bending my knees into a sobbing grief. The Muse can communicate a wealth of emotion through any songs which once brought joy to clearly communicate the true costs of those dalliances with darkness.
These dark forces, while contained, still are empowered to remind me of realities most in humanity would prefer to ignore are no on their own, evil. Their whispers do not lie, they simply confirm the worst imaginable, test our sanity, prepare us for possibilities, and balance our fantasies. They can freeze us in our failures, force us to live out our rejection, even examine our resulting pain. Music reluctantly submits to their cries, providing a complex harmony sometimes in minor keys to focus their intent to subject me to their intensity and invasion.
Fortunately, while the examination of past crimes is in full swing, the Muse changes the key, moves minor to major, and with a complexity of chorus, can rescue my very Soul, at its darkest, most overwhelmed, and rush me back to the joy of life for me to recover from the taste of Death itself. The cost may be the loss temporarily of strength, yet Hope quickly responds bringing powerful cords of communion to reenergize the husk. And, while the horror of grief recedes once more, the last of drying tears are wiped from my cheek, the cathartic release of that visit resonates with the memories of Loves. I can rest as I have not rested in nights after a nightmarish hour or two of reliving lost contacts, having greeted their specters without appropriate supervision. Music, having been subject to reality, rescued me once more, after an awful wrong turn had cast me at the doorstep of Darkness.
Tonight, as the song list of my mind played, some of those songs and the words therein touched the dark areas of my mind. Be careful what you carve into your memory. You might identify with me if you have an area of your memory where the morose and the painful are imprisoned. Music takes you where you must go. Fortunately, for me, it continues to rescue me from the places where I find myself lost, bringing me back to safety.
Tonight, at the crux of reliving some recent memories, Peter Paul and Mary started to sing. Yet, instead of the usual movement of poignant love, somehow the tune threw me into a swirling mix of emotion as Mary and I changed perspective, Carleton came face to face with me, and sang one verse, then I another. Quickly, reality met loved loss, with my barriers of responsibility crumbling and those pang of hurt and disorder being held back joined with the fragments of regret and anger.
The discordant music clashed, causing poised cords to clash in calamity, jarring my control and eliciting anguish as memories accused me and begged me to connect.
Usually, I find the depths of my memory and the vast music repetoire ensconced in my soul assists me to cope with the vagaries of others and the circumstances life can throw my way. Usually music is capable of moving me past hurts, quickly through terrors, and rescues me from that area, that prison where pain, loneliness, worry and depression are confined in my being. Those dark thoughts are restrained and left starved in that small space. Those feelings, the dark history is banished there along with past harmful thoughts.
Yet, when I am at my weariest, or when I venture too close to that restricted prison where regret reigns, or an event throws me near to the lair of mistakes and the morose, the Muse of Music acknowledges their presence. While they speak, Music stirs the survivors of those imprisoned terrorists of my inner strength and peace into a chorus of morose communication, a choir of terrible consequence, which can rob me of my pride and my strength, bending my knees into a sobbing grief. The Muse can communicate a wealth of emotion through any songs which once brought joy to clearly communicate the true costs of those dalliances with darkness.
These dark forces, while contained, still are empowered to remind me of realities most in humanity would prefer to ignore are no on their own, evil. Their whispers do not lie, they simply confirm the worst imaginable, test our sanity, prepare us for possibilities, and balance our fantasies. They can freeze us in our failures, force us to live out our rejection, even examine our resulting pain. Music reluctantly submits to their cries, providing a complex harmony sometimes in minor keys to focus their intent to subject me to their intensity and invasion.
Fortunately, while the examination of past crimes is in full swing, the Muse changes the key, moves minor to major, and with a complexity of chorus, can rescue my very Soul, at its darkest, most overwhelmed, and rush me back to the joy of life for me to recover from the taste of Death itself. The cost may be the loss temporarily of strength, yet Hope quickly responds bringing powerful cords of communion to reenergize the husk. And, while the horror of grief recedes once more, the last of drying tears are wiped from my cheek, the cathartic release of that visit resonates with the memories of Loves. I can rest as I have not rested in nights after a nightmarish hour or two of reliving lost contacts, having greeted their specters without appropriate supervision. Music, having been subject to reality, rescued me once more, after an awful wrong turn had cast me at the doorstep of Darkness.
Tonight, as the song list of my mind played, some of those songs and the words therein touched the dark areas of my mind. Be careful what you carve into your memory. You might identify with me if you have an area of your memory where the morose and the painful are imprisoned. Music takes you where you must go. Fortunately, for me, it continues to rescue me from the places where I find myself lost, bringing me back to safety.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Happy National Coming Out Day
Happy National Coming Out Day!
For those who have always wondered, yes, I am gay. If you need to seek therapy, call a therapist. If you just feel the beginnings of a heart attack, please dial 911. If you weren't shocked, well, welcome to my world.
In the spirit of Coming Out, I thought I would share other tidbits that might provide more inclusion, more insight, and more entertaining fodder for future discussions and judgments.
For those who have always wondered, yes, I am gay. If you need to seek therapy, call a therapist. If you just feel the beginnings of a heart attack, please dial 911. If you weren't shocked, well, welcome to my world.
In the spirit of Coming Out, I thought I would share other tidbits that might provide more inclusion, more insight, and more entertaining fodder for future discussions and judgments.
- I played violin since I was in fourth grade. I haven’t touched it for three years. Carleton asked weekly for me to play. I did once. I regret that I didn’t do it since. I opened it today.
- I enjoy ballroom dancing. I can waltz, two step, fox trot, cha-cha. I can lead and follow. Yet, I have only been on the floor once since moving to San Diego.
- I believe Cheetos is its own food group.
- I am a Vodka snob.
- I only drink Coke when offered soda.
- I yearn for an electric car with the power of BMW and the comfort of Cadillac.
- I love lesbians.
- I coined the phrase “flannel wearing ninja lesbians”. It makes lesbians laugh and straight people worry that they exist. It is a concept like Santa. I haven’t met one, but I love the ideal.
- I once led republican organizations.
- I consider a great fantasy or sci-fi novel a vacation.
- I was a competitive swimmer growing up in La Grande.
- I have had 71 friends die of AIDS related diseases. I miss at least one of them daily.
- I have a committee of voices in my head. Most of what they say is entertaining, wise, or insightful. Usually the comments are one liners. Yet, fortunately, it is rare that they take control of my vocal cords. One, I am certain, is a drag queen (It just may be Lady Elaine Peacock). My family is well represented on the committee (Dad, Cindy, Mom, Marc, Grandpa). Fortunately, they normally sing in harmony, allowing me to assign tasks, enjoy the chorus. During major grief, the committee adjourns. They have recently came back into session. No, I'm not crazy. I think its ADHD and my ability to manage the competing
- The time I spent as a pastor for 3 1/2 years to an LGBT congregation was a time of great learning and growth.
- I am a professional worrier. Yet, in my private life I merely enjoy the individual moments I have when I am with friends.
- I believe that all my business rules were developed by watching Disney animated movies.
- Of course, I love musicals. Didn't you know I'm gay?
- My first gay date was in Missoula, MT.
- I fought my first bully when I was in third grade. A friend, James Hawthorne, came to my defense.
- I fought my second bully in 7th grade. My third in 8th grade.
- The most humorous comment that I ever heard was that due to rumors that I partied while I was an exchange student in Brazil as a junior in High School, students who had harrassed me for years in La Grande, Oregon, determined I wasn't gay. Apparently, gays don't know how to party, right?
- The first board of directors I joined was the Gay Pride Board in Portland, 1991.
- I considered I was gay at 8 years of age. That was either shortly before or shortly after some classmates either informed or confirmed it by harrassing me.
- I love blankets.
- I really want the next President of the US to be a woman.
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