The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1
Page 50
One important thing – I don’t know what got into my head, but I didn’t bring down any really warm clothes – and after today I’d appreciate a bathrobe, my lumbershirts, my white cardigan sweater, and anything else you can think of to keep me warm for the early season!
No doubt after I catch up on sleep, get over my period, and learn to balance trays high on my left hand I’ll feel much happier. As it is now, I feel stuck in the midst of a lot of loud brassy Irish Catholics – and the only way I can jolly myself is to say “Oh, well, it’s only for a summer, and I can maybe write about them all.” At least I’ve got a new name for my next protagonist – Marley, a gabby girl who knows her way around but good.
The ratio of boys to girls has gotten less & less, so I’ll be lucky if I get tagged by the youngest kid here – lots of girls are really wise, drinking flirts. As for me, being the conservative, quiet, gracious type – I don’t stand much chance of dating some of the cutest ones.
While thanking god for little blessings – I will say I’m in the “quietest” part of the dorm.
If I can only get “in” as a pal with these girls, and never for a minute let them know I’m the gentle intellectual type, I’ll be O.K.
As for the Mme. news, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. I felt sure they’d made a mistake, or that you’d made it up to cheer me. The big advantage will be that I won’t have to worry about earning maybe barely $300 this summer. I would really have been sick otherwise. I can’t wait till August when I can go casually down to the drug store and pick up a slick copy of Mme. flip to the index & see ME. One of two college girls in the U.S!
Really, when I think of how I started it over spring vacation,* polished it at school, and sat up till midnight in the Haven House kitchen typing it amidst noise and chatter, I can’t get over how the story soared to where it did. One thing about Mme. College Fiction – although that great one last year by the Radcliffe girl* was tremendous & realistic, I remembered the first issue I read where there were two queer part-fantasies – one about the hotel the woman kept for queer people* & the other about an elderly married couple.* So I guess the swing of the pendulum dictated something like good Old Henry & Elizabeth Minton. Elizabeth has been floating around in my head in her lavendar dress, giggling very happily about her burst into the world of print. She always wanted to show Henry she could be famous if she ever worked at it!
One thing. I am partly scared and partly curious about Dick’s reaction when he reads the story in print – (I wonder if they’ll cut out the parts that my C. writing teacher wanted left out?) I’m glad Dick hasn’t read it yet – but Henry started out by being him & Elizabeth me – (& they grew old and related in the process.) But never-the-less, I wonder if Dick will recognize his dismembered self! It’s funny how one always, somewhere, has the germ of reality in a story, no matter how fantastic.
I don’t think that they illustrate their stories, but I wish to heck they would. I know a great girl from Smith* who graduated this year & will be a guest editor – she’s very talented in art. So Smith is getting publicity – and am I glad to help. I don’t think they could hear about it in time to cut down my scholarship. It would sure be a nasty thing to do, but she knows I was short a few hundred, so this will just “fill in.” It’s awful to have to suffer because of publicity.
Anyhow, although I only told Perry & Paul Dalton about the story, I get great pleasure out of sharing it with you who really understand how terribly much it means as a tangible testimony that I have got a germ of writing ability, even 17 has forgotten about it. The only thing, I probably won’t have a chance to win Mme. again, so I’ll try for a guest editorship maybe next year or my senior year, and set my sights for the Atlantic. God, I’m glad I can talk about it with you – probably you’re the only outlet that I’ll have that won’t get tired of my talking about writing.
The more I think about attitude being everything, the more I think that I can make these slangy girls be good for something if I handle them right. Anyhow, I’ll soak up the kitchen & side-hall atmosphere – if not more than 25¢ tips. I’ve got a great story setting here, boy.
Speaking again of Henry & Liz – It was a step for me to a story where the protagonist isn’t always ME – and proved that I am beginning to use imagination to transform the actual incident. I was scared that would never happen – but I think it’s an indication that my perspective is broadening.
By the way, they’ve got an employee over here with a name almost exactly like mine – so put “waitress” after my name so she won’t open my letters before I do!
Sometimes I think – heck I don’t know why I didn’t stay home all summer, writing, doing physical science & having a small part time job – I could “afford” to, now, but it doesn’t do much good to yearn about that, I guess. Although it would have been nice. Oh well, I’ll cheer up. I love you!
XXX
your own Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sat.–Sun. 14–15 June 1952*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Saturday 11:30 p.m.
Dear mother –
After today you must be ready to disown me – I want to explain that when you walked in the door I was tired, tense, & on the verge of tears. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself in your arms and sob “Take me home with you, I’ll never be a good waitress.” But as it was I didn’t know what I was doing. To top it off, the woman told me I didn’t have to work for supper when I went in for lunch, and when I thought I could have had a picnic with you all somewhere I just ran to my room and did burst into tears. I didn’t know where you were, and Dick came, and I was so tired and sad. He insisted on driving me to Brewster to stay at the cabin. By that time I was so homesick and lonely and the thought of being left alone for four hours with Mr. Norton when I could have been with you made me feel worse.
But I somehow did manage to swallow that sick feeling & have a nice supper with him. We picked & hulled some little wild strawberries for desert & went for a walk together down by the shore till Dick came to drive me back. I was really so grateful for Mr. Norton’s at least being human to me that I could have cried. That seems to be all I can do now.
Please, please, when Warren gets a day off, come see me again & give me another chance. Maybe if you could get here after lunch, if not earlier in the morning, I could swim with you all.
Do write me letters, mummy because I am in a very dangerous state of feeling sorry for myself. All the cute girls are on dates and I feel that nobody loves me except maybe the ice man who smiled at me today. As you psychically suggested, Dick has changed his attitude toward me and I feel like telling him to just stop being nice & to leave me alone. Marcia is “engaged” – and writes to ask about New York and so on – she’s going to the wedding – or went today. How I love her!
Anyhow, since I providentially don’t have to work for breakfast tomorrow, maybe I can go back to sleep and catch up. Just at present, life is awful. Mademoiselle seems quite unreal, and I am exhausted, scared, incompetent, unenergetic, and generally low in spirits.
Do bear with me – it was so heartbreaking to glimpse all you dear people today and want to again be back home where people care more about whether you’re alive or not.
Anyway, forgive me for acting so queerly today. And please do come soon again.
Thanks for bringing the stuff.
Love,
Sivvy
Sunday
Well, I managed to get about 9 hours of sleep last night, and I still feel sort of shaky. Honestly, I would like to know why I can’t seem to adjust to new situations involving a lot of people my own age. I already feel that I can never really belong to the large group of adorable, peppy, tireless waitresses who work in the main diningroom and get asked out to dances and parties till late in the morning. Working in side hall puts me apart, and I feel completely uprooted and clumsy. The more I see the main hall girls expertly getting special dishes, fix
ing shaved ice & fruit, etc., the more I get an inferiority complex and feel that each day in side hall leaves me farther behind. Even there I have trouble “timing” meals and getting courses to interlock, etc.
But as tempted as I am to be a coward and escape by crawling back home, I have resolved to give it a good month’s trial – till July 10. I figure three more weeks should give me a fair chance to become more capable, to see how much I would earn in the next two months, to be really in the summer season. If I don’t earn $100, I really feel that the work, the hours, the chopped up time and so on wouldn’t be worth it. The only inducement I have is really the beach and a tan. I will sacrifice minor comforts for that, but not major ones.
One thing, If I do get really more miserable day by day, I figure maybe I can get another easier job, since it would be early in July, still, I hate to think of leaving the Cape, though. And you know how I hate not to complete a thing. At this point I am completely confused. In a week or two when the guests come, there will be more of a set routine, but side hall never changes from week to week.
Do you think I’m a coward to consider giving up in a month if it doesn’t work out? I was thinking I might somehow be able to get a part time job down the cape here – in a store or book or art shop, but then I figured the hours would be so I couldn’t ever see everyone else who goes to the beach, etc. And as for jobs around home, I don’t know what you could dig up there for me. I wouldn’t care so much about money if I could sleep, be home, study and write on weekends. After all, If I’m going to run around like mad for only 200-250 for three months, And I could be earning the same thing in an easier way, it would seem silly to stick this out.
However, I must change for dinner now. Don’t worry about me, but do send me little pellets of advice now and then. My roommate comes in a week, which may give me a rapid swing up or down decisively. Just now I’m vacillating in great confusion.
Write soon,
XXX
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 16 June 1952*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Monday
Dear mum . . .
Well, it is my weeks anniversary here, and I am celebrating the beautiful blue day by spending my morning hour clad in my new black bathing suit down on the beach. Needless to say, I am in a little more optimistic mood than when I last wrote you. In spite of the fact that as usual I am not loved by all the girls – whether they classify me as competition or what, I don’t know – but anyway I figure I don’t have to shed tears about that. I do like being by the beach, though, and if necessary, I can be pretty independent and self-contained. Last night I actually had my first “date”, and had a really good time, to my surprise. Of course, there are many more girls than boys, and all of them are adorable. But if I get a small percentage of dates now and then, and spend the rest of the time studying or sleeping, I may manage.
I have been thinking over the situation and figure that even if I did get a “dirty deal”, this season, I should think of the future. I could earn $500 next year if they took me back in the main diningroom, and if I put in a relatively unprofitable summer financially this year, I can “afford” it with my Mme money. (Perhaps that’s why I got the prize.) So we’ll see. I probably could never get such a good job next summer as I could with this summer of experience behind me.
Anyway, could you rush me some mesh or service weight stockings. Nylons just don’t stand up under the 3 day change & diningroom wear & tear – send garters please if they’re not built in. Also send bras. I must have left them in one of my drawers as I only have one here.
Last night I got my phone call from “Lloyd, The Bellhop,”* around 8, lay down from 8-10, and went out from 10:30 to 2. It really was fun – we drove to a beer place and sat and played number games, drank beer & had cheeseburgers. After that, it was a drive to a lighthouse, a coffee place, and a furtive walk over the Belmont grounds in the moonlight. I really thought my date was a nice fellow – a med student from Dartmouth. Unfortunately, all the girls around here are gorgeous, so I don’t expect to “go steady” at all. It’s like shuffling a pack of cards. There are a good twenty-five really adorable waitresses to about a nucleus of 10 eligible men – so you can see. But at least maybe I’ll net a few dates, & comfort myself by sleeping the rest of the time. The characters around here are unbelievable, and I already have ideas churning around in my head. One learns so much by keeping quiet and listening. I hope I’ll be able to really get a lot of story material out of this. At least I’ll be able to spout authentic dining hall lingo and thereby give a semblance of reality & background.
Chin up & take it easy,
XXX
Sivvy
P.S. I was much amused to get a letter from Alison who is going to Italy this summer. She wants me to come to New York in September, and I hope I can make it. I deserve a rest. The funny thing was, evidently Eddie & his friend dropped in on her saying, of all things, that I sent them. She & a friend went out with them, and she raved about how impressed her family was with them. All of which goes to show how double dealing some people can be
again.
XX
Siv.
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Wednesday 18 June 1952*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Wednesday 930 pm
Dear mother –
I do so appreciate your very thoughtful letters which have been arriving every day. They have given me a big lift. As for the letter to Driscoll – at first I was horrified that grampy had sent it, but on second thought, I think its a wonderful idea. I believe in pulling all the strings I can, and that is one way to keep on hammering it into his head that I want to get into the main diningroom. I managed to grab him in the kitchen the other day and ask him if there was any chance of eventually changing. He was very evasive, and said that they couldn’t tell now, and words to the effect that sidehall wasn’t so bad once it got going. So I am glad your letter will clarify matters.
As for me, I saw Mildred and dear Aile* this afternoon – chatted on the front porch, and convinced them I was healthy, happy, and coming along more philosophically than when I last saw you.
Dick came too, and we went for a little drive. One great thing about sidehall – I get out early. This morning I had a private swim at 9 a.m. and lay & rested in the sun till 11:30, as the other help gradually congregated around.
This afternoon, Dick & I took a brief drive, and I’m writing this just as I am expecting him to drop over & say hello tonight. At least we’re best of friends, anyway.
So I’ll stick it out, I think. Nowhere can I swim and tan so well, and as you said, a transfer would probably toss me out of the frying pan and into the fire. –
Enclosed find check – I am glad I’ll at least earn $50 from that newspaper next year.
XXX
Siv
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Saturday 21 June 1952*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Saturday 10 a.m.
Dear mother . . .
Today is really going to be the roughest of the season. A big convention of about 1000 is coming down, and they are eating on 3 shifts, which means that everybody works all day. No doubt tempers will get very short. So maybe I’ll get another whack at the main hall.
I have a feeling that unless something unforeseen happens I’ll be in side hall all summer, and yet they have given me the biggest station, which will be work, but which pleases me because there will be more people. In full season I’ll be waiting on 13 people: 4 orchestra men; the caretaker, his wife & daughter, 2 ladies from the gift shop, the 2 diningroom captains (women) and the head bellman. So, figuring at least a $1 tip per person a week (possibly $1.50 or $2 from one or two), I should net $15 in tips per week, plus $10 base pay if I stay the season. So that would roughly be what I earned last summer. So except for the fact that this wo
rk is really physically tiring, I shouldn’t go bankrupt. Of course, I have considered the pros and cons of leaving, say August 10 – all he could deduct would be $10, and I would be able to come home, rest, work on science, and maybe babysit or type or work on a playground mornings for a month both studying science and writing. That way, I might earn about $50 less, but I was thinking it would be a plausible and healthful solution, perhaps. After all, 2 months work is a respectable stint. What do you think? Of course, come August, I might want to stay, or be switched to the main hall, but otherwise, I think my solution isn’t too bad a one for the time being. We shall see. I feel very calm & philosophical about it. The way I figure, I’m working very hard for the money I earn, and a month of maybe writing, studying & earning pin money would be valuable physically. 2 weeks is hardly enough to rest up from a strenuous summer like this one.
My roommate, Polly LaClaire,* arrived yesterday, and is a very sweet girl, tall, dark – reminding me much of Ruthy Freeman, she is 17, and also starts the University of Mass. next year.
I got the package. Thanks. I haven’t heard from Mlle (you were right) yet. Hope to heaven they didn’t get the wrong person by mistake – otherwise I will die. You don’t think they would have gotten wrong the name by chance, do you? That is the strategic coup that has saved my sanity and nervous system!
I’ve got an idea for a 3rd story for 17 called, of all appropriate things “Side Hall Girl” – I even have a heroine named “Marley” who is, of course, me.* The ending would be very positive and constructive. I hope I can get time & energy to write it. If I mull it over in my head for a week or so, trying to organize the chaotic incidents which pile on me every day, I should be able to sit down & type it up on some girl’s typewriter in a few days and send it to you to type and get notarized. Ambitious? You bet. The only thing I hope is that the editors of 17 don’t read Mlle!
I’m going to try for a guest editorship next year (& the year after, If I don’t get it.) At least I’ve got plenty of activities to advertise, & with my honors program, should manage to do the monthly assignments. Not only that, I’m going to work for that Atlantic contest but hard. Would I like to win a summer at Breadloaf! But that is really a dream, because boys usually win those things, & my style needs to mature a lot yet. I’m glad to have catapulted out of the 17 arena, though.