what am I doing here?

I ask myself that a couple of times a day.


With time I feel more disconnected with my community.
Reading about my elementary school becoming a charter school. Catching up with the lives of my sisters on facebook. Sharing those intimate moments with my boo on skype. This isn't living. It is an illusion we construct as reality.


And out of all places I am in New York, Manhattan to be specific. The city that attracts a bunch of folks who want see the urban city as a resume-building opportunity. From the teach for america teachers, to the non-paid interns, to the graduate students flooded in loans, oh my... what am I doing here?

My time is exhausted with all the reading and writing that academia requires. I pay about $250 for every lecture I attend. Fancy power points full of information that I already read in the books I already paid for. Graduate courses, when too large become lectures, when small become reading clubs, oh my what am I doing here? 


The metro lines are the city's veins. And the people, always in and out, are what keeps it going. I can't help to feel a sadness when everyone always looks like a zombie. Especially in this cold weather. No one wants to be out. 


Being in the belly of the beast has taught me a thing or two about what it eats to sustain itself. I know very well what its diet consist of, what it loves to eat, how it nourishes and strengthens itself. The question is can I exist in the belly of the beast without letting it consuming me? Can I really be in the belly of the beast and kill it, without killing myself in the process?  


All these questions... oh my, what am I doing here?