Spanglish

Before I left for Spain I used to throw Spanish words into everyday conversations. Common Spanish words or phrases, like "anda!" or "ay dios" suddenly snuck themselves into an otherwise typical English sentence. I used to call it Spanglish, thinking that the 5-95% rate of Spanish to English was an acceptable rate for a way of speech to be considered Spanglish. Like every other assumption about language I had before I arrived here, I was wrong.
Now that I've been here three months, I wish I could call myself fluent in Spanish but I'm not. Every day I get closer to it, though, and further away from my previously excellent knowledge of English. My Spanish is increasing and my English is deteriorating. This means that the 5-95% rate that made up my definition of Spanglish this summer is rapidly turning to a 30-70% rate. Spanglish is becoming more and more Spanish and less and less English. This makes my head a constant mess of Spanish versus English. I find myself talking to myself in both languages, and even to others in both. It's no longer mostly intentional, it's 100% done subconsciously.
This makes my mind, spoken word, and written word an imperfect combination of Spanish and English. I'm now nearly truly fluent in Spanglish, which is both highly inconvenient and actually kind of cool. I feel kind of like I'm losing a huge part of myself, the part that reflexively corrected peoples' grammar and had an unnatural grasp on the English language. On the other hand, my Spanish is improving, meaning I'm fulfilling one of my goals of exchange.
This Spanglish prevents me from thinking in actual words, making writing and speaking hard for me. It's creating an explosion of awesome inside my head though. I guess that makes it worth it.

A little something I like to call "Language Cock Block"

So, apparently I'm not posting on Mondays or Thursdays. Or maybe I am and I just screwed this week up. Either way, I apologize for the lack of updates this week. I just know you all were sitting on the edge of your seats waiting to hear from me (that was sarcasm, by the way). I'd also like to warn you that though my mood and well-being has greatly improved since last week, I'm still a bit crabby. If you want a more detailed recollection of how I've gotten over my severe case of homesickness/bitterness, feel free to email me.
Also, I'd like to mention two very important events that are surrounding today- my One Month, which was on Tuesday, and my birthday, which is on Thursday. I will be 17 which is a big deal- it means I'm finally legal in the wizarding world! Yay, me. If you happen to have any presents or letters or cards ask my mother how to address them, as I haven't the foggiest how to do it. I know you need the address itself and then there's something to do with my host dad's name and I don't know what it is but my mom does so just ask her. Not that I expect presents or letters or cards. Honest, I don't. Though some birthday wishes would definitely be appreciated considering I'm alone in a foreign country.
Something that's been on my mind lately is how much of a language barrier there still is between me and everyone else in Spain. Before I came here I was sure I'd be able to understand everything everyone said. I was a pro at Spanish- never mind what everyone was telling me about the impossible Andalucian accent, I'd kick butt and wow all those Spaniards with my language skills.
Boy, was I wrong. Sure, my Spanish was more than adequate in the US, but in the big scheme of things I'd taken four years of language from non-native Spanish speakers in Oregon public schools and could barely pick out fragments of words in sentences spat at me my first week here. I adapted the bad habit of smiling and nodding, not knowing what I was agreeing to. It was embarrassing, to say the least. But it proved those theories stating that immersion in a Spanish speaking country was the best way to learn the language.
Now, a month later, I've drastically improved but I'm still not fluent by any means. My friends and host family still need to speak slowly and choose their words carefully in order for us to have a normal conversation. Even with that, being surrounded all day every day by people and books and signs and all that written or spoken in a completely different language is one of the most exhausting things ever. Sometimes it gets me down, and I feel like I try so hard all the time but with no success. Other times I look back on how much I've improved and I feel good about myself. It's a new feeling for sure. Language has never been a problem for me- I was always that annoying kid who looked forward to the spelling bee and corrected my teachers on their grammar. Here, my nine-year-old host sister is constantly providing me with the right word or verb conjugation or even phrase.
I've found ways to adapt to not being able to communicate, though. I am now probably the best charades player you will ever meet, and I will never again feel ridiculous about making insane gestures or word combinations in public. I've figured out that I can just get straight to the point to avoid making vague conversation (the hardest kind of conversation to make and, I've realized, the most pointless). I'm figuring out how to use my Spanish as well as I can and even communicate without words. Until I'm fluent, though, all I can really do is watch Phineas and Ferb in dubbed Spanish and write down awkward translations on top of all my tests.