Author: Geoff Gimse

Vaccine Shot #2 is Complete

Midday, yesterday, I found myself sitting on a small plastic chair in Roy Wilkins Auditorium as a kind and matter-of-fact nurse jabbed me in the arm with a needle. It was my second such experience in the last 21 days which means that in two weeks, I will be fully vaccinated against the coronavirus.

That is the good news. The less positive news is that that second dose did end up hitting me like a truck. It’s not pain per se. I am not hurting or experiencing any sense of physical suffering save a general tenderness around the injection site. Rather, there is this general fog of fatigue that just seems to be slowly dragging me down. I had hoped to have a full day at work but ended up crashing out after completing a small project that was due by the end-of-the-week.

With how I am feeling, I will take that as a victory.

Moving Forward

I was knocked out of commission for most of February and a good part of March by a strange illness that was in no way related to COVID but which still managed to make life extremely uncomfortable.

I am, as they say, feeling much better now!

I'm feeling much better now!


In the Midst of the Chaos

One of the more positive aspects of aging is that, over the past several years, I have found myself becoming more and more of a morning person. This has afforded me the opportunity to witness far more sunrises than I did in my earlier days of late nights and later mornings. There is a certain peace that comes from watching a sunrise. The unerring rise and fall of the sun offers a sort of cold reassurance that, despite all of the chaos that surrounds us, there is a steady hum and flow to the universe. A hum and flow that cares little to none for our madness.

This has been a mad year. It’s been a mad several years, but 2020 has been a particularly difficult time for many, and there is a dark winter ahead. We have lost much and more still may be lost.

I do think that the arc of our history turns toward the light, though. There are moments where it may be hard to see, but sometimes there are glimpses—streaks of a rising sun in a darkened sky. I saw that light in Saturday’s impromptu celebrations, in the hard work of experts who are struggling to keep us safe and healthy even as many seek to destroy themselves on the vainglorious and twisted altar of a “liberty” which offers neither freedom nor life, and in the ongoing work of people who have made it their life’s work to help others.

I am not sure where this is all going, and I am sure there will be pain and darkness ahead. I am just as sure that there will be joy, and laughter, and good people who know the work is not done. Take care of yourselves. It is far too easy to let the madness drain us and exhaust us. Stay strong. Stay safe.

Know that you are not alone and take a moment to watch the sun rise.

Checking in

When I said that I expected 2020 to be a challenging year, I didn’t quite mean this challenging.


Living in the Echo

I am beginning to fear nostalgia.

This is, I must confess, a new fear. For most of my life, nostalgia was nothing more than a harmless distraction. When invoked, nostalgia became a sort of glorified remembrance of the past that felt both quaint and mildly silly. It may have been a bit maudlin at times, or—when pushed to its extremes—obnoxious and ignorant. It was never frightening, though. That has changed.

I should say this is not a veiled complaint about “nostalgia porn” (although I suppose it could be looked at that way) nor is it a rant about the massive amount of media surrounding nostalgia. We are not drowning in nostalgia, now, anymore than we have been. Which is, of course, to say that we have always been drowning in nostalgia. Our obsession with it is not really a surprise. Time, for now, is a one way journey. We can never return to the moments that came before. We are, in a way, explorers traveling further and further away from a home that we will never find again. Yet, we know this past. We remember it, and it remembers us. The past is what makes us, so it …


© Geoffrey Gimse (Opinions expressed here are my own and are not neccessarily shared by employers, friends, or colleagues.). Built using Pelican. Except where noted, all photos are my own. Other images used on this site are in the Public Domain and available from Openclipart, or have been purchased for use via The Noun Project.