The month is finally over. All the things that happened, all of it connected. From the convergence of all those things running down at the end of July, to Ritu's meltdown, to Chris's departure from Fiction, to the office politics about which team I would be on and the subsequent transition of cases and attorneys, to the trip to Tahoe and the ride around the lake, to my back injury and recovery with Dr. Wonson.
Dr. Wonson knew that there was more to my back injury than the physical aspect. If she only knew the whole thing. Now I exit the month in New Jersey, away from all that in the Bay Area, symbolizing a passing or a passageway into what's next. What's next? What is awaiting me when I return. Do I dare guess? New boss, I know. What about Josefa? The work environment will change. The band is changing. It all happens in September.
Every time I visit New Jersey, I come here feeling like a stranger, like a completely different person than these people know. I feel like I've gone through so many changes and that I have grown so that being here has no relevance. They have no idea who or what I am or what I'm about. These people are the same, no growth, no progress, still mired in their petty, predictable, ordinary existences.
But it's inevitable that the longer I stay here, the more I revert into seeing myself the way they see me, even though it's totally inaccurate. Deep family grooves, you think you can run away from them, but it's so hard to shake them.
