It's a fucking piece of strawberry birthday cake, let me tell you... if, that is, you're living on Daddy's cash. If not, however, you are likely to end up like me, sleeping on the most uncomfortable wood floor. No couch. no table. no tv. not even one freaking chair to sit down in, which you don't realize, is really really a problem. I find myself pacing the house not sure what to do while I'm on the phone or just doing "nothing"
Everything costs a bloody fortune. Even walmart brand.
You think it's all fun and games with no rules? Ha. I never get to hang out with my friends or talk on the phone all hours of the night with no permission needed. Why? Because I'm always at bloody work, and secondly because I can't afford to talk on the phone that much and thirdly because I grew out of that kiddie bullshit.
This whole experience is very... starving musician-like.
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