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No doubt after I catch up on sleep, 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 ration of boys to girls has gotten less and less, so I'll be lucky if I get tagged by the youngest kid here. Lots of the 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 … 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, it'll be O.K.
As for the Mlle news, I don't think it's really sunk in yet. I felt sure they 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 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 Mlle, flip to the index, and 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 were it did…
I get great pleasure out of sharing it [her feeling about the story] with you, who really understand how terribly much it means as a tangible testimony that I have got a germ of writing ability. The only thing, I probably won't have a chance to win Mlle again, so I'll try for a guest editorship maybe next 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 …
Speaking again of Henry and 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.
Sometime I think -- heck, I don't know why I didn't stay home all summer, writing, doing physical science, and 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.
Your own Sivvy
June 15, 1952
Dear Mother.
… Do write me letters, Mommy, because I am in a very dangerous of feeling sorry for myself … Just at present, life is awful. Mademoiselle seems quite unreal, and I am exhausted, scared, incompetent, unenergetic and generally low is spirits … Working in side hall puts me part, and I feel completely uprooted and clumsy. The more I see the main hall girls expertly getting special dishes, fixing shaved ice and fruit, etc., the more I get an inferiority complex and feel that each day in side hall leaves me further behind … 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 … Don't worry about me, but do send me little pellets of advice now and then.
June 24, 1952
… Last night I went on a "gang" birthday party at the "Sand Bar" where we sang and talked for a few hours. There were about forty of us kids from the hotel. I managed by some magic to get myself seated next to a fellow in his first year at Harvard Law -- and he was just a dear … The best part was when we came back. It was a beautiful clear starry night, and Clark went in to get me two of his sweaters to wear because it was cold, and brought out a book of T.S. Eliot's poems. So we sat on a bench where I could just barely read the print, and he put his head in my lap and I read aloud to him for a wile. Most nice. The only thing is I am so inclined to get fond of someone who will do things with me like that -- always inclined to be too metaphysical and serious conversationally -- that's my main trouble … So glad to hear the check from Mlle is real. I hardly could believe it. Just now I am mentally so disorganized that I can't retain knowledge or think at all. The work is still new enough to be tiring, what with three changes a day into uniforms, and I am so preoccupied by mechanics of living and people that I can't yet organize and assimilate all the chaos of experience pouring in on me. In spite of everything, I still have my good old sense of humor and manage to laugh a good deal of the time … I'll make the best of whatever comes my way.
Much love to you,
Sivvy
New Words
mademoiselle
n. French title equivalent to Miss, abbr. Mlle
shady
a. full of or providing shad; dark
interior
n. the inner part of sth; inside
insane
a. seriously ill in the mind; mad
anyhow
ad. in any case; anyway
brass
n. (sl.) high officials, executives, etc.
net
vt. gain as profit 凈賺
slick
n. a popular magazine printed on heavy, glassy paper（用油光紙印制的）通俗雜志
frankly
ad. in an open, honest and straightforward way
frank
a.
