Regret.

This should have been a day for an Exalted March for me. However, I am not in my old country any more, and thus I am not able to partake. It fills me with melancholy, a sense of loss, of chosen exclusion from my people and lingering despair.

None of these are good.

So, I write to convey my feelings.

I remember when the anticipation of an Exalted March had me giddy for weeks, if not months, in advance. I remember spending time finding the right outfit, a place to stay in the capital, traveling there on Friday the day before, then the actual Exalted March on Saturday, and going back home come Sunday. A weekend stay with one purpose only.

A religious experience. Being an Agnostic bordering Aheist means I do not throw this term around lightly - not when it comes to myself. So, having an event in my life that occupied the space where other people have religious experiences (of the good kind, mind you) has been a great deal to me.

And now I am no longer able to have them.

You see, the Exalted Marches takes place in Oslo, Norway. I am now stationed, or positioned, having moved too, or whatever you want to call it, in the Frankfurt area. By my own choice, I should add. They do not do Exalted Marches in Frankfurt - they do CSD (Christopher Street Day) parades. Without the common folk having the option to join in. It is a parade, it is all scheduled and planned out in advance. I understand this, as there are many, many more people located in the Frankfurt area than it is in and around Oslo.

Yet it leaves me devastated not being able to walk alongside those who march.

Why am I lamenting this today? Today is the day of the Exalted March in Oslo. It happened. I was not there. By choice, I returned to my partner so we could spend less time apart. My logical mind and my loving soul both support and agree with this decision. And still my heart bleeds right now.

I know the pain and hurt will go away. I know change happens and sometimes it is for the worse. But still I long for an Exalted March. This longing, this need, this unfufilled part of me that now must wait one more year can be felt very strongly.

That is why I am writing right now. I write to express myself, to process, to work through my emotions, and come out through the other side better than what I was when I started writing.

I'm sorry if this makes for bad reading. But you see, I never really write for the reader. I always write for the writer. Utterly selfish, I know. However, being able to express myself in this little corner of the Internet has been more helpful that I care to put down in words.

I leave with hope. A small, forlorn and treasured hope, but hope none the less.

And to all you fellow queer folk out there - Pride is but one month. Sometimes it is continuing through the 11 other ones that is just as important.

Various quotes taken out of context.

"Cannibal Grandmother is not something that is happening every day."
Iris

Join all cults, kill all saints, empaths aren't real.
BotC player

"A brothel of dead damsels - here to fulfill all your necro needs."

Jalapeños are not a cause of turning gay.

"The barn tried to eat everybody, I'm just saying."
"But we got a necklace."
*spontaneous laughter*

Reality is a construct our brains make up to try and make sense of what our senses are telling us.
QC4912

"You pull one leaver, and all of a sudden; seventeen things you weren't expecting start exploding."

The facial expressions of a machine.

"You know what this dark altar needs? A projector. And a slideshow."

"We live in capitalism. It’s power seems inescapable. So did the Divine Right of Kings.”
Ursula le Guin

the grateful hate

I have a somewhat complex relationship when it comes to moving. Granted, I have done this many, many times over the course of my life, and as such I should be quite good at it.

I am not.

Packing, sorting, transporting and unpacking are not any of my good skills. I'm OK at carrying things, assuming they are not to heavy or too cumbersome.

Moving takes time. It is a decision. It comes with change, uncertainty, leaving behind the familiar and embracing the unknown. I'm not very good at embracing the unknown. I admit that sometimes change can be outright scary. I know I'm paraphrasing H. P. Lovecraft here, but the statement still stands. 

"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."

There you go.

Uprooting whatever tentative roots you had placed down at a location can certainly affect people. Saying goodbye to various people over and over again is not a skill I think one should be good at, but it is a byproduct of rapid moving/changing location.

Even if what you are moving towards is an upgrade of what you had before.

A physical location you inhabit over a prolonged time should be called home.

What is home? That is a question that has many different answers, depending on the person being asked. For me, home is safety, being able to relax, feeling content and/or happy at.

I once felt coming home when I was visiting a city I had previously lived in. I ended up moving back to it, and it felt like home for quite a while. Now that I'm leaving said city I can say that it has been a home for me, for a while, but no longer is. Home is now someplace else. Home is where I am moving to.

I detest cleaning in general, and cleaning an apartment you're moving out of is always, ALWAYS a pain for me. And this time, I only have myself to rely on for cleaning.

Don't worry about the skeletons, I'm bringing those with me.

And books. So many books.

My home is not home without books.

I'm leaving a city for a village that in all probability is older than the city I'm leaving.

There is also easier access to nature. This pleases me.

The name of the place is more to my liking as well: the Nest in the Valley of the Blue Mountains.

Many things I leave behind. Regret is not one of them. In fact, I cannot wait to be done with this moving and cleaning and return home again.