Hollywood has obviously been to grad school.


Gradu-spy-du-cation. (A screenshot from “Alias.”)

So, here I am, real-life professor having endured real-life grad school, and I decide to watch “Alias” on Netflix. Because 2001 seems like it must have been awesome. And so I learn that the main character is attending grad school.

“Grad school” is a cavernous, wondrous library with an old guy chattering up at the front.

Sydney attends “grad school” with a little notebook and two other students who listen as the old guy rambles about… I’m not even sure what she’s studying. Books. I’ll make a guess. She’s studying books at grad school.

And she is a spy. She has time to be a spy, by the way.

While studying books.


That is how I remember it: whilst I was an international spy, I learned about books and subsequently became a professor. A spy-professor. Obviously.

Graduate school was not a high-pressure, neurotic universe of overachieving in arcane knowledge that would see me enter a precarious job market. No: graduate school was sprinting through underground laboratories with sarcastic quips firing from my lips as I shot at enemies with my semi-automatic watch-machette-shotgun.

And, if I may add other movies and TV shows to my resources for understanding, I believe that what grad school has done is arm me to make wild symbolic connections to uncover nefarious plots, unveil treasures forgotten by history, and  also time-travel. Yes. I time-traveled.

I read a few French articles, too.

And I acquired the most amazing fashion sense while accomplishing said amazements.

Because all spies are beautiful. And all graduate students are…


I studied books, friend. That takes some serious brains and well-chosen clothing that accentuates my natural joie de vivre.

That was French again. Just so you know. And I know Latin. They’re, like, the same. Almost. Except not. But similar.

My detailed knowledge of living and long-dead Western languages helped me considerably when I dismantled various Asiatic-Russian secret alliances. (The Cold War lives forever! So does Byzantium! Why not?!)

It’s not that grad school crippled my ability to make any conclusion without vociferous fact-checking and reflection. It’s that I punched the facts in the face. After reading my books. Because I studied books in a gorgeous library. At college. Where I learned advanced books.

And face-punching.

Or was it fact-punching?

I am not sure there is a difference. I stopped listening to the old guy yammering in front of the large stone fireplace in the amazing library with the rare books (which I studied, advanced-studied). I am too busy successfully saving the world with my learning.

That I got at grad school.




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