Reentry

I'm sitting in an incredibly weirdly branded coffee shop/AT&T store in Cap Hill, listening to the music on my laptop because AT&T's open wifi doesn't quite have the gumption to allow me youtube. I haven't listened to the music on my laptop since at least 2018 because it's ridiculous. There's maybe three decent albums on here. There's at least 100+ albums total.

Because it's Monday, most adult humans here are at a job, going to a job, or WFCS (Working From Coffee Shop). I have carefully curated the worst 4/10 schedule I could have ever designed at my job, which is essentially data entry in pet insurance, and I have Mondays off, which means that I frequently get the benefits of nearly completely quiet coffeeshops, even in Seattle.

there's an ugly block of apartments across the street that also hosts a lone black and white pigeon, who keeps flying back and forth across the street to what I can only assume is its nest in the concrete chunk above the door.

I've been sitting here trying to figure out what constitutes a proper introduction post.

My previous self managed to keep up with blogging for 5 years, and then stopped, and I'm not hugely confident that I'll be able to keep up with blogging for that extent of time, but that's fine.

They were, in many respects, a totally different person. It's important to think about what they did and thought and said with compassion towards myself, and it's important to me to remember that they were me - but they were me in 2010. People change, and not nearly in the ways you expect them to.

So, five years later, diary? or should we go for the full decade?

Ten years ago I was in high school. Not even a real person yet. Less said, the better. high intensity pressure only turns you into a diamond if you start out as coal first.
I graduated, worked at a factory, took a chaotic and confused path through college, graduated with a major in psych, went to americorps nccc, was both intensely depressed and dysphoric for most of that time. realized I was trans, got diagnosed with both anxiety and global hypermobility, moved to Seattle, changed my name. Worked on not being quite as sad. In college I got published in a small peer-reviewed spec fic anthology, in seattle I got an essay published in a book you can even buy on amazon. Somewhere in there, I stopped writing this blog. I think in October 2015 I was halfway through NCCC.

K Moss feels, in many ways, like a younger sibling. Maybe even a younger sister. I can see the ways that they became me, and I can see similar paths, similar phrasing. But I think in many ways we've lost each other. Maybe in twenty years I'll read this and have that same sort of disconnect, a kind of temporal Venn's Diagram.

Today, I'm Moss. I'm 27. I've made art and stories. I live in Seattle. I'm trying to stop apologizing and doing a generally bad job. I'm in love with a fantastically weird man and with pigeons, on slightly different levels of intensity. I'm trying to understand passion, and I'm trying to develop hobbies (bead lizards? redesigning a studio apartment to be functional? tiny tiny books?). I'm trying to pay attention to myself more, and I'm trying very unsuccessfully to grow a moustache. I'm going to post stories and essays here, along with more personal rambles, and I'll include a link to my gofundme (in case you'd like to help me out with top surgery) and to my other projects.

Who were you even
what did you think about the world

Beginnings and definitions

I decided to start a blog because it's a global world out there, and most of that globe is on the internet. So. Here I am too. Hi, world.

I want to get my opinions, rants, and just plain wierd thoughts out there so that my friends can read them, my family can read them, and people who are entirely unknown to me can read them.

Also, I like blogs. I like reading them almost as much as I like reading books and webcomics.

Blah blah blah.

That's over then.

So this blog is called Points of Pique, which I mainly chose because it had something to do with my email, which I mainly chose because it sounded cool and no one else had it. And then some time ago (last night) I decided to look it up on dictionary.com, which is a very cool website. I have successfully argued the spelling and definition of several words thanks to this website. And yes, I'm anal like that. When bored enough, I will organize my pencils by size. Don't ask.

So - definitions as according to dictionary.com of pique:

verb,piqued, piqu·ing, noun
–verb (used with object)
1. to affect with sharp irritation and resentment, esp. by some wound to pride: She was greatly piqued when they refused her invitation.
2. to wound (the pride, vanity, etc.).
3. to excite (interest, curiosity, etc.): Her curiosity was piqued by the gossip.
4. to arouse an emotion or provoke to action: to pique someone to answer a challenge.
5. Archaic. to pride (oneself) (usually fol. by on or upon).
–verb (used without object)
6. to arouse pique in someone: an action that piqued when it was meant to soothe.
–noun
7. a feeling of irritation or resentment, as from a wound to pride or self-esteem: to be in a pique.
8. Obsolete. a state of irritated feeling between persons.

There were other definitions...like embroidery and ballet moves - but this blog isn't really about needles or toe-touches, is it?

I hope not.

And if you really want to know the rest of the meanings, you have a computer and (hopefully) fingers. Use them!

Anyway... these definitions actually make a lot of sense. Pique can mean irritated, ticked off, called to action and/or arousing curiousity. In which case i chose the right words for this.

Not to say, of course, that every blog will be sharp, witty, irritating or curious. But I have high hopes that most of them will be.

I like reading - books and webcomics and other blogs - so sometimes I'll talk about that.

I've always been a fan of comments - in fact, most of the reasons that previous projects have self-destructed has been a lack of support - from both myself and other people, so feel free to leave comments. But if you have a question, remember that I am still in school.

School = teachers. teachers = coolness, smartness, and, among other things, homework. Homework = progressively less free time. I can only procrastinate so long before my parents carry me, kicking and screaming, away from the computer to lay my nose down upon the grindstone. Heh.

At any rate, i believe that this post is quite long enough, so hail to thee, Ankh-Morpork and adios.