Manolo the Columnist
Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
0Dear Manolo,
I’m going to a graduate school holiday potluck with my boyfriend. I have never been to the school and I am not sure what to wear. My style is pretty conservative. What do you recommend?
Sandra
Manolo says, Ayyy! Merry Nonspecific Period of Non-Oppressive Festivities to all!
Let the Tofurkey and Macrobiotic, Bargain-Priced Sprouts flow like organic wine!
And now, let the Manolo stipulate that if the phrase “graduate school potluck” does not strike dread into your heart, you are not the feeling person. The very words alone conjure up the sort of lugubrious hilarity and culinary achievement one associates with Moldovan politburo lunches, sans the lubricating effects of vodka.
It is the little known fact that graduate students are among the most miserable peoples in the world.
Yes, the first year begins in high spirits, but then gradually, inch by inch, the lonely misanthropic gloom settles in, brought on by the low pay, the low status, the low self-esteem, and above all the low muffled beating of the unfinished dissertation, which, like the tell-tale heart, lies insistently beneath the floorboards of the mind.
Of the course, no reason you, the non-grad student, should not be cheery. Here is the Laugh from Franco Sarto, the perfectly partylicious affordable black ankle bootie.
Comments
Miss Cavendish 15 years ago
I miss my grad school days. They were full of bulldogs, cycling everywhere, and actually enjoying grading composition papers.
SusanC 15 years ago
The Manolo must surely have or worked on an advanced degree. These are pretty and will stand out in the sea of birkenstocked TAs and RAs. Plus ankle booties will hold up for the mile hike to the red and green crepe paper bedecked student center from the parking-lot-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-because-grad-students-couldn’t-afford-the-full-price-permit. I live in them now that I’m faculty and still face many of the same problems.
Cat 15 years ago
Hey, how did the Manolo know my graduate program so well? I didn’t know you were there! It simply wasn’t a nonspecific-holiday-related-potluck-feast unless someone brought tofurkey and someone else brought hash brownies. We always had homegrown hot-pepper-eating contests, too, but that was Texas for you.