Redwolf's Journal (continued)

Well, I attended my first "annual" Homeowners Association meeting last night. This after having lived where I am for about a month shy of two years. It wasn't even my fault. They actually didn't have one last year, and in 2003 I was somehow not on record (thus didn't receive notice) even though I was perfectly settled in by the time the meeting happened in December. The complex has 23 units. 7 owners were present and several had written in, essentially making our property manager their proxy. As far as organization goes, things were very laid back, barely following any sort of protocol. The discussion, however, did get a bit heated. Mind you, no one was directing that at anyone else present, but there were still some strong feelings voiced. The big topic, taking about two-thirds of the hour-and-a-half meeting: dogs. By the rules, dogs are not allowed. In the last month, there have been increasingly blatant violations, including a quartet of pit bulls in one fe

Part of yesterday's strangeness was a trip to the local shire meeting. I haven't been to one in... a long time. Heck, I haven't been to an SCA event in years. More than anything, it made me feel lost. There was a time in my life when the SCA held great appeal. I wanted to be a light weapons fighter. I wanted to look good. I wanted to do well. And somewhere in there I stepped off the path. Yesterday, I listened to an explanation of many of the Society's awards. I heard a duchess say, in essence, "If you do what you enjoy because you enjoy it, the awards will come to you" and "If you're doing something for an award, you're doing it for the wrong reason." To me, that's common sense. It reminded me, however, of how I felt when I unofficially 'left' the Society (that is to say, I gave up trying to participate). I felt as though nothing I had done had been recognized. And while I had not be doing those things for recognition, I had

Yesterday was one of those days that reminds me of what my life is not and, in turn, what it is. Some people thrive in the city. They go to clubs. They party. They look for adventure in 'everyday life.' ... That's not me. I don't feel comfortable at large social functions. I feel worse about the bar/club scene. I don't feel a need to 'do something' every night. While other people have fled this town and cursed it as boring, the pace and feel of it suits me just fine. So now I wonder about that. Some of it is simple choice, but I think some of it comes from seeing the world differently from those people. Why? I could point to several experiences in my youth, but I don't know if I can truly assign all blame there. My mother and I moved a lot in my pre-high school years. Does that really explain why I seem to bond with people so differently that what seems to be the 'norm?' Does that explain why it's *work* for me to find proper anecdotes fo