A little bit of disenchanted whingery.

[pedantic_poet]

So I'll be 21 this year and I can't shake the feeling that I'm not doing enough with my life. I'm endlessly daydreaming about the time when I'll have a good job, a big flat in a posh suburb, a flash car, the latest gadgets. Instead I'm a soon-to-be ex-student without a job, stuck in a council house for the next few years, with no confidence and no social life to speak of. I wonder if Moz felt like this when he was dying of boredom in Stretford? I wonder when my "Johnny Marr" will turn up.