The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1
Page 25
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 5 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Sunday 2 PM
Dear Mum–
Just a note before I at last settle down to my English paper. I slept till 10 this morning, had an apple and a few glasses of water, and sat in my bathrobe and chatted with another freshman till dinner. I like the drowsy quiet & leisurely morning on Sunday. Dinner was good – roast beef, potatoes & peas. I wore that lovely blue plaid Viyella blouse with my navy blue skirt today and it looks utterly rich! I love it! Did you see the write-up on Fry’s play in the Trib?* My evening with Bill proved profitable in regard to my art assignment. A friend of his had an old photography book which he let me tear up, & I got pages of pictures which are just what I want – for now & future assignments. I am going to curl up in my easy chair and, slippers & wool socks on, make my self comfy while I hash out my little 1200 wd. treatise. Wish me luck on it. Love to my favorite person –
Your
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 6 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Monday
Dear Mum—
Well – another week – gosh how they fly – it’s like an obstacle race to the goal-line (Thanksgiving) when I can relax at the close of the race – & catch a breath before the next lap. Seriously, I am wary of these next two weeks. Very tight, they are. I did my Eng. Paper (6 pg.) all day yesterday & will hand it in Wed. He just better give me a good mark. One of the girls told him about my 17 story & poem – so he knows, but doesn’t know I know he knows! I love that class – feel completely at ease in it. Ed sent me a lucid criticism* of my poem, which he grabbed on Nov. 1 (the loyal old thing.) Thinks I overdid the first part too lushly (which I did) but likes the second about the history inside the stone. Several girls have perused various of his letters. Conclusions: varied. Mainly envy & awe of him – “terrific writer–” “lots of drama in my life” etc. etc. Personally, I think he is a little too sure of his philosophy of life & his infallibility in analyzing others. Oh, heck – he’s only 23 – give him time. It is now 11:15. My latest. But I can’t afford to get sick now. Had supper at Louise’s house tonight. You think you know Smith because your own house is so familiar – an then you plunge into another group of strange faces and again begin to wonder who you are.
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 7 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Tuesday night
Dear mum—
TSK TSK – 11 o’clock again. But I have had so much to do, and the time just whizzes. All afternoon I spent in the libe doing my daily homework. After supper Carol Pierson,* a friend from 1st floor, came up to the room to type a theme while I sat on the floor & worked on my art notebook. I have it about ⅓ done now. After doing a rather stilted job on the 1st 4 pages, I got into a real creative stride on the next ones. It is so mild out, now! I am sending some laundry home. My watch is in a little box wrapped in a green towel. The jeweler here took a piece of metal out of the works, but said it needed a thorough cleaning. I can’t believe that in only two weeks I’ll be going home!! Do see what shows are coming this Xmas. Our “family group” should take in a few good times while we’re together. (This card is a masterpiece of incoherence.) I was rather embarassed in Eng today when my teacher said to let the rest of the class work at a story for a while – that I was explaining too much. It’s so annoying to sit back & watch people fumble over a point you see so clearly. Eng. is not too challenging, I fear.
Love
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 9 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday 9 AM
Dear Mum—
I sure appreciate your scouring the stores for art magazines. They should arrive today, as I have to finish the book tonight. The etching by Rembrandt, the prints & especially Bellows* lithographs were a godsend, especially as I had none of the latter. Pat came over after supper last night, and we studied till 10 for the Botany written today. I am very sleepy, and hope to catch up on that rare commodity this weekend. As yet I haven’t had time to write Mrs. Gorton or Mrs. Prouty, but I’ll try to this weekend. Well, In less than two weeks I’ll be home! Don’t be surprised if I look a bit hollow-eyed – a good night’s sleep will fix me up fine. I wrote Mr. Crockett a long letter about life up here – he’s done so much for me that I felt he should share some of this experience too. Pat mentioned an advanced course in creative writing under Mrs. Chase* who marks papers according to the standards of Harper’s & The New Yorker – that would be something to work for, wouldn’t it? Wish me luck on my written today –
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 9 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thur. night
Dear Mum—
I’m writing this at “house meeting” while I dry my hair. Every other Thurs. night from 10:15-12 we all get together & hear reports from the house of Reps & vote on things – soo everybody knits, writes & otherwise is inattentive. My Botany written was the sort of thing you don’t know how you did on. At least I passed!! Louise Giesey came over for supper (as my guest) & stayed all evening while I pasted up my art notebook. If I do say so, It’s a pretty neat job – after the 1st 4 pages I really hit my stride – cutting out colored papers & shapes & arranging the pictures. I used all the graphic examples in those magazines which arrived this afternoon – and almost everything you sent. It’s a big project, and I don’t know what I’d have done without your help! I hope the old fool of a teacher realizes how brilliantly artistic I am – heh heh! I can’t wait till tomorrow when at last I can go to bed early & relax for a while. My Eddie has been my most loyal correspondent (after you, of course) I’ve gotten at least 10 fat letters since I came here* – some people are so thoughtful –
Love
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 10 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Friday night
Dear Mum—
Well, it is 12:30 P.M. & I’m just crawling into bed. The amount of sleep I’ve had this week has been nil, so tonight I thought Id get my work done & hop in early. I was up in my room talking with a lovely girl in our annex (she’s one of the people I really can tell things to.) And I was expounding on the misery & inferior feeling of being dateless this weekend. Bill had asked me out, but I had refused---he just isn’t my sort – no spark. So nothing had turned up. I was saying how sad it was that my 3 blind dates here had fizzled so soon, when the phone rang. It was Louise Giesey – 3 boys had just dropped over & would I go out tonight. So I threw on my clothes – all the time ranting to dear Anne on how never to commit suicide because something unexpected always happens. Turned out that my date was a doll – Corby Johnson* – black hair – blue-eyes. His hobbies are sailing, drinking beer & playing bridge, but the 6 of us sat at Rahar’s* & talked & laughed all evening. I had a good time – in fact I now feel terrific – what a man can do. Oh, well, I’ll do my homework before class tomorrow
LOVE,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Saturday 11 November 1950*
ALS handmade card with envelope,
Indiana University
Saturday
Dear Mother –
Just for the sake of variety I thought I’d give you a demonstration of my “art work.” This whole afternoon I spent in the art studio doing next week’s art assignment. The little gem on the front page of this was run off in the press in a moment of frivolity. In reality it is not my real block print, but just a trial “scrap block.” Even though I just used it to try out tools, I think it has a certain ve
rve to it.
I am rather tired from standing on my feet for three hours – but I never had such fun. My block print was a gay informal design of three daisies. I ran it off 25 times on all sorts of material – colored paper, white paper, newspaper. The best effects were gotten when I put a cutout design of one color on a square of another & printed it. I thought that method out all by myself! The purpose is to understand the relief method of printing by doing it ourselves, & experimenting with all sorts of backgrounds. Some day I’ll buy my own little press & print Xmas cards! I never had so much fun as standing in the big airy studio on the 4th floor of the art building & printing my gay little concoctions.
I am rather weary from my strenuous week and am oh! so glad I don’t have to drag myself out tonight. I haven’t even the energy to keep a smile pasted on my face. What could be nicer than to put on socks & slippers, curl up in another freshman’s room downstairs & read “The Mayor of Castorbridge” while munching apples? Then a hot bath & to bed? I look so forward to relaxing.
It smells like Snow and Thanksgiving. It is just before supper, & music drifts up to my room. Oh, mumsy, I’m so happy here I could cry! I love every girl & every blade of grass. Even that adorable Amherst boy served his purpose & gave me an uproarious time last night! My lucky star brightens all the time. Ruth Giesel & I’ve been writing a lot.
Love you all – your happy girl –
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 13 November 1950*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Monday 1:30 P.M.
Dear Mother –
Well, another week begun. I have accumulated rather a large store of fatigue substances in my system, so that it will be a welcome respite to relax utterly & completely over Thanksgiving. The only trouble now is that I have to keep going till the last day – 9 Wed morning – when I pass in my English paper on The Mayor of Casterbridge.* Have you any suggestions as to a definite topic? I had thought of doing it on fate or atmosphere or something like that.
Just now every hour is filled to the last minute. My French mid-semester looms up on Thursday. Unfortunately, all my studying for it must be done Wednesday – and then to start my paper.
Yesterday Mrs. Shakespeare mentioned to me that Mrs. Carle* called her. It was a clear bitter November day, so immediately after a delicious dinner I hied myself over to the library with my trusty copy of the “M. of. C.” The browsing room is ideal for enjoyable reading assignments since it is sound proof, there is no danger of being disturbed by the telephone or by visitors, and yet there are all the comforts of home . . . good reading lamps & great cushioned easy chairs where you can take off your shoes & curl up in all sorts of odd positions. The chairs are all in front of windows, so you can put your feet up on the window seat, & look out across the campus to the Holyoke range, foggily purplish in the Sunday dusk. And all the while the carillon bells are chiming out hymns and college songs -- a lovely thing to hear.
Today was rather full – 4 hours of classes this am. – History lecture then the libe till six where I struggled over history – reading, but not assimilating very easily. Perhaps you can correct my study habits if you see the book itself. The time I spend is hours above the actual things I learn. Tonight I just got back from another bout at the libe – it is now after nine. My letter to Mrs. Prouty will have to wait until Thanksgiving, I fear.
Oh, if you only could have seen how it was walking back from the libe tonight – that clear, crisp frosty air (perhaps like the night you walked to Wellesley College.) Lights from the dorms in square yellow dominos against the black. And hope, opportunity, capacity everywhere Conversation overheard: “And in Zurich I took all my notes in German . . .” Gosh! This sure is international –
Love,
your old Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 14 November 1950*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Tuesday night–
Dear Mother–
There are times when schoolwork definitely should be put aside regardless. And tonight was one of them. I have been working pretty steadily, so I decided I owed it to myself to hear Peter Bertocci* of B.U. speak on “Sex Before Marriage.” Naturally the title of the lecture drew hordes, and the browsing room was packed to the gills. I have to hand it to the man: he knows what a college crowd needs – none of this dodging the issue, either. I quickly lost my consciousness of the fact that he has an unpleasantly raspy voice and was lost in the sound maze of his contentions. Am I right in thinking that he’s the one who lives on Pine Street in Wellesley? Or is that someone else?
As for the substance of his talk, it was not to dictate, but to set up a pattern of inquiry in our own minds. His lecture was phrased so that you could apply your own history & ideals with the case histories and questions which he brought out. Naturally my mind was receptive to clear cold logic – no Emile* around to make my emotions fight reason. In fact since I haven’t really enjoyed myself with a boy since Emile, my emotional problems are vague and dormant. Maybe it’s a good thing. I have thrown all my energy, physical and mental, into Smith – perhaps that would be a temporary sort of sublimation. The part that is hardest is this interregnum between boys. I need rather desperately to feel physically desirable at all times, and mentally desirable in cases where I admire a boy for his ideas too, but just now I am lacking any object of affection – no one to pour myself into except a close girl friend – Ann Davidow. And I talk to her only too rarely.
In other words, this is a period of sterility emotionally. Mentally it is a fertilization of the soil in my mind . . . who knows what may bloom in the fruitful season later on? Enough symbolism. I am happy – which is strange, as I realize myself socially & emotionally unfulfilled. But with my old resilient optimism I know deep down inside that when I find a real companion in a boy, I will be only too glad I had this period of static waiting to increase my sense of pleasure. As to my subjects – I’m beginning to see light – I love them all. I’m being stretched, pulled, to delights & depths of thought I never dreamed possible . . . and what is most wonderful --- this is only a beginning. The future holds infinite hope and challenge. I somehow can’t keep from singing to myself, no matter how weary I am – sunshine which I had when I was little seems to have been restored by Smith. And I know that in the cycle of joy and sorrow, there will always be an outlet for me – I can never lose everything – all at once. Once I get my scholarship firmly established, I may have time to turn my attention more thoroughly to art and creative writing. Even now I am greatly encouraged to find that the black, immovable wall of competition is not so formidable when broken down into small human units. I am finding myself still in upper brackets as far as marks go. Sure, I work hard – and so do hundreds of others. But my sane weekend life has kept me healthy & able to cope with most daily work. I’m getting study habits, keeping up. When I get that down to a science I can weekend with relative impunity.
Above all, I’m happy – knowing that from pain comes understanding, I rejoice in whatever happens. Strangely enough, I am rather well-adjusted, I think, and enjoying life more fully than I ever have.
If only I can weld now – where I’m living so hard I have no energy to produce – into art, writing later on. It’s like animals storing up fat and then, in hibernation or relaxation, using it up. I have a feeling that my love of learning, of people, of wanting to perfect techniques of expression, may help me to reach the goals I choose to set. Can you make any sense out of this? Maybe you can analyze the ramblings of your child better than she can herself–
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 16 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday
Dear Mother–
Well, I had my French mid-semester today. It’s one of those things that you don’t know how you did in. I was so rel
ieved to get your little $5 gift! I went right down and bought a round trip ticket for $5.12. The 10:30 bus is one of those connection affairs involving a 1 hour wait in between. Train is definitely out – too expensive & too awkward – So it looks like I’ll be taking the one o’clock p.m. bus. I should be home by 5 P.M. unless I should unexpectedly get a ride, in which case I’ll see you in the afternoon. I think I’ll wash my hair the first thing so I’ll be nice for the weekend. I’m afraid I’ll have to bring a few books home as I have an Eng. novel to read & a History (ugh) written & Botany written the very next week.
See you soon–
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 17 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Friday night
1
Dear Mother –
It is now the scandalously late hour of 12:30, but I really don’t use up much time writing to you – it takes so little effort to drop a line each day – and each day has it’s own special assets & liabilities. Today was an asset day straight through. Two cards from you & a fat letter from Eddie.* And in Botany – guess what I got on my first hour exam!!! 96***!! I almost flopped! I’m going to study like mad for our next exam Friday, cause I’ve gotten far behind on my lab sheets. But so far my average in Botany is straight, pure, unadulterated A! I need that so much to balance my next history written. I will study for that, too, over Thanksgiving – but at least my Botany encourages me no end. I spent the afternoon in the art room. I had my little conference with the teacher – my notebook, I’m afraid, “leaves much to be desired.”
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 17 November 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Friday
2
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