19 September 1939
This is the third night of a new school year, with the freshmen still
much in evidence, and no upperclassmen in
evidence. I came Sunday, leaving the family after only four days stay,
and found everything very much as it was last June 20th, when we left
it. However, this is our senior year, the last year of our youth, and
therefore, it should be the best. Ann and I are rooming together, a grand
room except that it [is] over Miss Heimbach who probably will eventually
object to the noise, but that is yet to come. But this is a queer sort
of year to end one's college career with. By this time, Germany (and Russia)
have taken Poland, and England and France are fighting for their very
existence. This afternoon, at Beck's, Chris and I had a mutual sort of
discussion about the whole ghastly business with conclusions about the
same: war is ineffective, a waste of manpower and what civilization we
have, and once more, the U.S. will be suckers if they enter it.
21 September 1939
Today was registration, and over Miss Logan's prostrate body, I am taking
Spanish, not because I really want to but because I'll be dammed if I'll
spend another year cursing over French verbs. Also taking 17 credits,
with Miss Gilbert's permission on condition that grades are kept up. Registration
followed by regulation big-little sister tea, with atrocity of atrocities,
a line consisting of Misses Briggs, Gilbert, Ruez, Roberts, etc. all ladies
with yellow corsages. Very hot & stuffy.
15 October 1939
...the Mixer, my last, thank goodness. Its one of the things I'll be glad
to leave behind in June. Hope this doesn't mean I'm anti-social. We were
hostesses, and as identification wore white carnations and it was our
duty to act as sort of an unofficial group of cupids. The men were average,
and not too exciting. The orchestra was very good. Spent most of the night
in aunt-like conversation with Ben, Chan, Dick, and other people's little
men.
18 October 1939
Have started a short story for 401 about a maid named Willa. I wanted
to make her terrifically sinister, but she's turning out mild and uninteresting,
thus divesting me of even a skeleton of a plot, and plots are hard to
get. Yesterday played hockey in lovely fall weather -very cold and snappy
- the kind of weather that makes your nose run. Then stayed up until 12:30
studying Spanish and reading Enemy of the People. For the present, Ibsen
is in a rut, and it's high time we give up the Social Problem period of
his life.