I've been afflicted with a consuming disease for about two years now. What do I have? An extreme case of I-miss-college-way-too-much-for-my-own-good disease.
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We always dream about the future and idealistically remember the past. But when are we going to live in the present? Why can't we make now matter?
My attempts to remain low-key and laid back about New York City public high school admissions in front of my 13-year-old have backfired.
The criteria are flexible. They're a combination of songwriting, listening pleasure, live performance and at what point in the song I begin to cry like an 11-year-old girl.
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