Flipping frantically through a book of majors the size and weight of a Buick with the swirling, emotional, and almost religious strings and piano chords of Radiohead in the background is unsettling. The rise and fall of the base lines are confusing my brain, rendering me unable to remember why I even picked up the book in the first place.
And now we come back to the standard breakdown that every high school child has at least 20 times a year: what do I want to be?
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