Accepting the inevitable- pastries, homesickness, and actual homework

And I wouldn't change a thing.

To say that Denmark is my biggest life adventure yet is an understatement.
I grew up white and middle class in a small town with a nuclear family- my most exciting adventures were driving from Maryland to Michigan for family trips or driving into Baltimore to go to the zoo.
I still thought this was exciting, because adventures are a relative experience.
You go skydiving and flying seems a lot less thrilling.
Or if you go to Japan and eat something that's still technically alive then trying a new item off of the Olive Garden menu is not particularly titillating. [I love that word.]
Anywho, needless to say this is my adventure.
And I'm surprising myself.

My ability to eat pastries? Not entirely unexpected or surprising, but there is something to be said for eating two croissants that are the size of my head regularly without growing weary of their buttery deliciousness.
That and my ability to eat whatever my host family puts in front of me for dinner- be it salmon or broccoli in yogurt and garlic sauce.

My inability to do academic work here?
Absolutely phenomenal.
School doesn't feel real, and when it was time for me to study my brain was all "why you read? you no watch danish tv?" and I was all "brain. remember this shit. for the love of Danish pastries."
Like, I for realsies can't like handle this stuff that's like real academics. My brain just like can't do it here.

But what surprised me the most so far is that for the first few weeks I got homesick.
Of course, I am a non-confrontational person and this includes facing my own emotions, so identifying and admitting to myself that I was actually missing Amurrica took some time.
And my subconscious definitely had some bipolar ideas of how to reveal these harbored feelings of homesickness.
I mean, I had confidently told my host family within the first week that I never really got homesick- because I never had.
And to admit that I might miss the same things at home that I had been so excited to be an ocean away from felt like an epic, loser-ish failure of a study abroad adventure.
But once I had, to borrow Samantha's Texan phrase, a 'come-to-Jesus' talk with myself, it seemed ridiculously more manageable and acceptable to have feelings, not just be homesick but actually express these things people have called feelings. [ask anyone that knows me or predominantly my mother, whom I am a mirror image of, and they can tell you that emotions, discussing or expressing them, are an area that, as a girl, I am particularly unsuccessful in]
To say something that could be found on a picture on Pinterest, being homesick just means that there are people and things worth missing back at home.
Like my dog, Taco Bell, and Virginia weather.

6:43am USA
12:43pm Denmark