Shake the devil when he misbehaves.

I still wake up a lot of days and try to figure out what it is, precisely, that I have to face down. It's not that I'm necessarily looking for a reason to be upset. It's just that I want to be aware of whatever the universe is throwing at me. It's part of that self-induced torture brought on by the great fall from grace of 2007 that hasn't really left me yet. Mornings are often one of my favorite parts of a day but, they are also part of an almost constant battle with myself. To not give in- to the stress, to the worries, to the doubts, and to the fears and to all those little what-ifs.

And you know what really helps? Billy Idol. Swear to God. Ok, really. You might not be super proud to admit it but, how can you not love Billy Idol? Just a little bit? That bleach blond hair and that signature sneer? The pleather? The punk for the masses? His music just makes me want to get up and dance. It's sort of impossible not to. It's like a condensed version of everything that was both awesome and terrible about the 80's. Which is why I frequently put him on my iPod to wake up to in the morning. A little "Rebel Yell", a little "Cradle of Love" and suddenly the day doesn't seem so bad. His voice is smooth and confident and sexy and all of his songs are relatively lighthearted, fun, and upbeat.

Try it, you might surprise yourself. At the very least go watch the video for "Cradle of Love". You might develop a bit of crush on Mr. Idol, too. Or at least an overwhelming desire to put on some lace gloves and flip your hair around incessantly. Girls, anyway. I'm not sure I want to know what latent desires Billy Idol brings out in boys. Maybe the need to hunt down some safety pins and speak with the best Brit accent ever.

(Welcome to Part I in a three part series in which I discuss my three favorite rockers named Billy. More to come.)