August? Where the dilly did you come from?

Holy shit! Looking back at my last entry would make me scared for anybody who knows me. I can be quite the bitch! I'm sitting here in the Heathrow airport still have a good two and a half hours before I have to catch my flight back to Detroit. I can't believe it, I'm finally going home. What I wanted since the second I arrived in Madrid. Or is it? I really am ready to be home there are a lot of things that I miss but Segovia really came out of nowhere and kicked Madrid's ass. I hate to admit it but I was actually starting to like Spain. Not only like it, I may even say that I started to love my life there. I think the only thing that I didn't like was the feeling I had living in basically a stranger's house and being treated like a gueset for two whole months. I'm ready to have my own space back and do my own thing, although I can't complain about being waited on. This week has been a big week of Sam realizing how much she rocks all of a sudden. Now that my classes are over I'm just now realizing how hard I made myself work. I got 17, 400-level credits that pretty much finished up my Spanish major in only 6 weeks! I hate to toot my own horn, but on the other hand this is my live journal bitches, so TOOT TOOT!
On a side note, I spent last night in the Madrid airport sitting on a bench between a blond, dread-locked, photographer, from Etonia and a Spanish lady who lives in Canada and tries to speak English but couldn't use it to save her live or to chew a steak for that matter, the poor woman was seriously lacking in the teeth department, she informed me that she is really into government and politics and she would like to see her government get better so that's why she never votes, she's neutral. I felt like Forrest Gump minus the retarted stories. Yeah, I know, I do tend to have some pretty lame stories from time to time, but please give me some credit they're not that bad. Are they? Wait, don't answer that.
Back to my first scheme of things. I'm seriously going to miss Segovia. I made some really good friends there, and also met some people that I could probably be happy with knowing that I'll never have to see them again in my life, but that's not my point. My point is I went to Segovia with my arms crossed pouting and people still talked to me and thought I was cool and I made friends. Eventually I uncrossed my arms and quit pouting. I think that was around the time we established the bar that had some frecking good deals during happy hour as "our bar". It was also fun meeting smelly Spaniard guys with mullet-hawks and rediculous piercings and teaching them every dirty word in the English language while in a drunken stupor. Although I don't really remember exactly how I tought them I will remember how I had one of them programed to call everyone who annoyed me a douch bag. And trust me, that is no simple task, especially when I have the assistance of drinky drinks.
So yeah, after all the ass kicking work that I did the last few weeks I think going back to Alma and getting back into classes there are going to seem a lot easier. And I have no problems with that. So as I sit here I realize that I am in an English speaking country for the first time in a long time and I'm so confused. I refuse to speak in English to people, they probably think I'm crazy. Actually I was talking at the ticket desk in Spanish and then when they looked at my passport they were like "woah, you're an american?" It's so fucking weird to hear all these people speak in English and I almost don't understand it. As I'm hearing the English I'm automatically translating it into Spanish in my mind to make some sense out of it. I'm used to writing emails and talking on the phone every once in a while but this is intense.
I see a bar and seeing as I'm not going to be able to LEGALLY drink for another three months once I get home I'm going to treat myself to a sippy sip. Adios!