In January of 2006, I was under house arrest.
I had received a bone marrow transplant a few months before. Weak, bald, and lacking an immune system, I couldn't leave the rental apartment where my mother and I were staying except to go to the hospital. Even then, I had to wear a face mask and avoid touching surfaces.
Like many people, I became aware of David Lynch through Twin Peaks, but I didn't consider myself a fan until I caught Wild at Heart on TV one day.
It's so insane that I can't help but love it. As some early critics pointed out, it's often more about iconography than character, with Nicolas Cage and Laura Dern as oblivious, sexed-up baby rebels named Sailor and Lula. While they're clearly referencing Elvis and Marilyn, it comes off more as reinterpretation than impersonation.
"Legend" is an interesting word. Most commonly, it's used to refer to a story told again and again to share an important lesson. It's also the word that spies use to refer to their cover identities.
But we also have a legend we tell ourselves, one about what we could be and what our lives would be like if we could reach our potential. Not "if all of our dreams come true"—winning the lottery isn't in this fairy tale. But if you succeed at doing everything you suspect you're capable of. If you became your fullest, most blossomed self. That is your legend.
I'm going to start collecting failures. But only really good ones.
I have an opportunity at work that's making me nervous because I haven't performed well in similar situations in the past. Unless you count almost hyperventilating during a radio interview as "performing well," which I do not.