The 80's bring back so many images.......

I can relive some great scenes even in my car, air guitaring the steering wheel, wailing out the window with my fist cocked high, imagining I really am there on stage with spandex and a six pack. I have had crazy dreams that I ended up being the immediate back up for Bret Michaels of Poison and Steven Tyler of Aerosmith. In my dream, I knew every word and nailed every note in front of a roaring crowd of thousands. Yet each morning it never failed. I would wake up, look into the mirror, and find a 134 pound, peach fuzzed, hairless chest wanna be with a super wavy mullet saying back at me, "dude chill, one day you'll find a killer band."

I loved the eighties with every song, every movie, and every morph opportunity to style your way into the crowd. I loved and owned break dancing and head banging, moon boots and parachute pants, throwing ninja stars, and numb chucks. I still love to go back in time through movies like "The Wedding Singer," "Napolian Dynomite," and "Music and Lyrics."

Yet many other memories I can't seem to forget though I would like to. Some can even find a life of their own disrupting the rhythm of life if I give them a place. I don't mean memories like the time I was throw out of a Van Halen concert by four bouncers literally up in the air and onto a parking lot. Or the time I woke up one morning on a kitchen floor in a pool of vomit, not knowing who or how many people from the party the night before had walked over me oblivious, amused, or repulsed by my humbled state. I even remember running eight stop signs in a row at 80 miles per hour on psychedelic mushrooms with my best friend in the car who wanted to commit suicide and I thought my lunacy would help him find the courage.

Many scenes from my past help remind me of the great darkness and peril I have been rescued from. I am thankful and grateful to God for a new life He has restored me to. I am amazed I am alive to see the day I can type on a computer with no cord attached, blogging on a page the entire world could have access to in seconds. I am amazed each day that I am a husband of a "foxy" killer wife and a father of four healthy incredible kids. I managed to survive through six hit and run drunk driving accidents, sharing needles in the abuse of Crystal Meth, unprotected sex with countless strangers, months of major panic attacks, and reckless alcohol abuse.

My particular abuse led to blackouts that occurred multiple times a week for several years. I woke at the wheel of my car in mornings with no recollection of the night prior. I was carried out of resturants at 2 a.m. by security guards. I left residences some mornings with no idea who the person was or how I got there. I received threats for careless things I said the night before to people I didn't remember meeting. My alcohol abuse left me spending nights in jail, in vomit, on the edge of a snake infested lake, covered in blood, laid out on the concrete, sexually abused, sexually abusing, and standing on the roofs of cars going 55 miles per hour on the interstate.

In my heart I was singing with Motley Crue,

"I'm on my way. I'm on my way, home sweet home.

Tonight, tonight, I'm on my way, just set me free, home sweet home."

Yet still some moments knock on my door in unexpected hours seeking my attention and as if to remind me they are still alive with unfinished business.