I’m thrilled, Robert Goldstein nominated me for The Creative Blogger Award. Robert advocates for Mental Illness. He is a passionate artist, photographer, articulate and honest. Sharing his struggle with Mental Illness while providing support. If you haven’t visited his blog, I know you’ll enjoy his site. Art by Robert Goldstein, http://www.robertmgoldstein.com.
* Display the Creative Blogger Award logo on your blog
* Nominate 15-20 blogs and let know all nominees via their social media/blogs
* Thank and post the link of the blog that nominated you (very important)
* Share 5 random facts about yourself to your readers
* Pass these rules on to them
Five Facts: You will see I was born looking for trouble.
At 12 years, old I drove a friend of my fathers hot rod. He left the car at our house. I ask my dad first, hell no at top of lungs. Once he got on phone he would talk forever. I didn’t know how to drive. I grabbed the keys, drove the car around our street, came home and parked. I thought it was to far out in street, in my effort to correct, I jumped curb and hit fire hydrant. My dad did hear the bang, he ran out of house saying things I won’t repeat here.
My first motorcycle ride was at 9 years old. I was a biker from that day forward. The only problem was stepping off bike I burned back of leg on the hot pipes. The pain didn’t stop me from dreaming.
At 12 years old I was in two accidents while on bike, not big really. I was sitting on motorcycle high on acid. I started tripping and swore I was falling off. I was screaming for my friend. The scare wasn’t enough to stop acid. That’ a different story. The second time is funny now. We where on some type of drug and he was driving me home. He thought it would be funny by jumping over curb. It might have been funny if I hadn’t fallen off and hit head on concrete.
I learned to ride a bicycle at 4 years old. My dad was giving last advice before taking off. I was so proud I turned to see if Dad was looking, turning back running into telephone pole.
At 6 years old my brother got finger stuck in a can. In the old days there was the little piece that held the lid on. I thought how hard can it be to pull the can off his finger. Harder than I thought, his finger jammed, barely hanging on and almost lost a finger.
My Lyme Disease is getting worst, which means I’ll have more bad days. Thank you for standing behind me while I fight to get well.
Anyone who feels they have earned the award, please take and pass around.
The Rules to follow are in the middle of post.