I'm Yvonne Georgina Puig.
Be in touch here: yvonnegeorgina (at) gmail (dot) com
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson
29 July 2014
“It is the devil’s greatest triumph when he can deprive us of the joy of the Spirit. He carries fine dust with him in little boxes and scatters it through the cracks in our conscience in order to dim the soul’s pure impulses and its luster. But the joy that fills the heart of the spiritual person destroys the deadly poison of the serpent. But if any are gloomy and think that they are abandoned in their sorrow, gloominess will continuously tear at them or else they will waste away in empty diversions. When gloominess takes root, evil grows. If it is not dissolved by tears, permanent damage is done.”
29 July 2014
In an unmoored life like mine, sleep and hunger and work arrange themselves to suit themselves, without consulting me. I’m just as glad they haven’t consulted me about the tiresome details. What they have worked out is this: I awake at 5:30, work until 8:00, eat breakfast at home, work until 10:00, walk a few blocks into town, do errands, go to the nearby municipal swimming pool, which I have all to myself, and swim for half an hour, return home at 11:45, read the mail, eat lunch at noon. In the afternoon I do schoolwork, either teach or prepare. When I get home from school at about 5:30, I numb my twanging intellect with several belts of Scotch and water ($5.00/fifth at the State Liquor store, the only liquor store in town. There are loads of bars, though.), cook supper, read and listen to jazz (lots of good music on the radio here), slip off to sleep at ten. I do pushups and sit-ups all the time, and feel as though I am getting lean and sinewy, but maybe not. Last night, time and my body decided to take me to the movies. I saw The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, which I took very hard. To an unmoored, middle-aged man like myself, it was heart-breaking. That’s all right. I like to have my heart broken.
- Kurt Vonnegut
13 May 2014
30 April 2014
This guy makes my ❤ skip a beat
2 March 2014
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
- Mary Oliver
24 October 2013
Saturday, June 20, 1942
Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I feel like writing, and I have an even greater need to get all kinds of things off my chest.
"Paper has more patience than people." I thought of this saying on one of those days when I was feeling a little depressed and was sitting at home with my chin in my hands, bored and listless, wondering whether to stay in or go out. I finally stayed where I was, brooding. Yes, paper does have more patience, and since I’m not planning to let anyone else read this stiff-backed notebook grandly referred to as a "diary," unless I should ever find a real friend, it probably won’t make a bit of difference.
20 August 2013
Montaigne Quotes of the Day:
"In nine lifetimes, you’ll never know as much about your cat as your cat knows about you."
"There is nothing more notable in Socrates than that he found time, when he was an old man, to learn music and dancing, and thought it time well spent."
"To compose our character is our duty, not to compose books, and to win, not battles and provinces, but order and tranquility in our conduct. Our great and glorious masterpiece is to live appropriately. All other things, ruling, hoarding, building, are only little appendages and props, at most."
"A man who fears suffering is already suffering from what he fears."
"Even on the highest throne in the world, we are still sitting on our ass."
"If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I."
"Off I go, rummaging about in books for sayings which please me."
30 June 2013
"Do what you will, this world’s a fiction and is made up of contradiction."
23 June 2013
Happy belated birthday Walt Whitman, May 31
23 June 2013
At Home on Maui…
A friend of [Charles] Lindbergh’s had introduced him to the island of Maui. Lindbergh thought it was one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. “There is nothing quite comparable when you think of waterfalls, natural swimming pools, and the ocean beyond,” he said. This friend later offered to sell him several acres of forest, cliffs and seashore, all quite remote and inaccessible — and Lindbergh accepted at once. Charles and his wife Anne Morrow built a simple home — a place where they could get back to the fundamentals of living and the closeness to nature and wildness. In the beginning they spent about six to eight weeks a year in their Maui home. As time went on they visited more often and for longer periods of time. According to Leonard Mosely it was both a haven and nest, and they had never felt safer or closer to each other than when they were there together.
20 May 2013
all that matters / DH Lawrence
10 May 2013
Hi world, I have a short story out today on a neat new site called The Telling… It’s original art and writing and listening, chosen and edited by good people. They also pay their artists! $5 dollars a month gets you unlimited reading of great work. Please support and pass on…
Here’s the link: http://www.tellingreads.com/
8 March 2013
We pray today, O God, for our friends, the animals, especially for animals who are suffering; for animals that are over-worked, under-fed, and cruelly treated; for all wistful creatures in captivity that beat their wings against bars; for any that are lost or deserted or hungry; for all that must be put to death. We pray for them all; and for those who deal with them, we hope for a heart of compassion, gentle hands, and kindly words. We would be true friends to animals.
8 January 2013