Perdida en una tierra desconocida

I was initially against blogging because I really like to keep an aura of mystery around myself. Actually, I don't really like the idea of a blog, or at least a public blog that other people can read, because I hate the idea of assumed intimacy from someone who does not really know me. I think this is the main reason why I have not written and published my memoirs. I don't want people reading my memoir, which clearly everyone would since I had such an interesting childhood, and then approaching me at say, the ATM or the A & P when I really like to be on my own getting my money or buying my cream cheese, and strike up a conversation about my life. I might publish a fictional book based loosely on my childhood. People may ask where I got the idea to place the protagonist in the suburbs and have her endure hardships such as Gum Day, the only day of the year where she was allowed to chew gum and yes, she was allowed to chew six pieces at a time but just this one day of the year. Or, they may ask about the Day of the Fire Drill, where the four person Westlake (or perhaps Crestfake in my fictional book) family practiced meeting by the wood pile in the front yard to do a count off in case the house ever caught fire even though it would be abundantly clear if anyone was ever missing in case of a fire. If asked, I would just say I have an active imagination. I may leave out the part about when I was eight and had to sign a contract, with a witness, promising not to engage in unseemly behavior until after I graduated from college. I would leave this part out so my mother could continue to be in her tennis leagues without fear of embarrassment.

Alas, it is the digital age, and I need a blog. My initial idea of being cool international blogger failed immediately because I am, as the title of my blog indicates, very lost. Small tasks are very difficult for me, such as crossing the street (Madrid has the second highest rate of pedestrian fatalities of any city in Europe and I have almost died six times today), finding an apartment (which I eventually did after being rejected by some potential apartment mates who found me dull, boring, freakish, and, after seeing a one bedroom apartment with an extra bed surrounded by a bright pink curtain where the landlord's 40 year-old uncle sleeps--yes, in the same room), and ordering tap water (agua de grifo sounds very much like agua con la gripa, but one means flu water).

And so, here I am...I have an apartment. I started school. I have one friend, Vicki. I go to the supermarket every day because they have an incredible frozen food selection and they take credit cards and since I cannot access my own money 90% of the time, this is key. Welcome to the new life of Rebecca Lynn Westlake, the lost, the helpless, the patriotic.* I hope I make you laugh a little.

*More on my renewed sense of patriotism later. Live Free or Die. America the Beautiful. Give me Liberty or Give me Death.