Why New York? Why Me?

Introducing myself and my blog: Becoming a New Yorker. Welcome and enjoy!

The city. That never sleeps. The one with all the lights and all the fun; Endless cabs and harmless crazy dudes; Pink haired Gothic’s and Pierced Lolita’s. Nothing and Everything all at once. Where every day is a Saturday and limits do not exist. Where no one could care less about how you look or what you do yet where how you look and what you do sets the global trends. Where opportunities are endless and spontaneous decisions are somehow carefully implemented in schedules that operate on split seconds.

There is always something to look for, something to fight for, something to get excited for. A new shop, a new exhibit, a new restaurant, or that next gallery opening three blocks away.

The city where dirt and noise seems admirable. Where dreams come true. Where you use the subway more than you use the restroom. Where you walk for 25 kilometers without even noticing. Where you can be entertained by doing nothing and just staring at random passerby’s.

Why New York? Because opportunity. Because inspiration. Because freedom. Because having a purpose. Because working hard. Because having fun. Because you only live once.

I, Yaprak, am an 18- year-old who used to be an ordinary teenager who grew up with a vision of the American Dream. To whom New York was only a summer destination with an inflexible expiration date. A movie scene. A two-week long trip. An unreachable standard. A DREAM.

What was once my biggest aspiration is now my life. I am a proud freshman at NYU, living every second to the fullest, studying in the greatest city possible, appreciating and embracing every opportunity, pursuing every challenge and tackling every obstacle.

As I adjust to the city life not as a tourist, a temporary visitor, but rather as an embodiment of ‘Becoming a New Yorker’, I seek to share my experience with anyone who has any interest whatsoever in New York (The) City and the process of becoming an insider.

More precisely, this blog will take into account what I encounter on my daily life. What is new to me. What is unbelievably true. What I recommend and what I hate. A personal but relatable account. A genuine insight to life in New York.

Nothing too exaggerated; nothing too simple. Nothing unreachable yet nothing too ordinary. Capturing both the hidden and overhyped locations of the city. Get yourself a bucket list out of this content, broaden your horizons, either or both. 

No formality, no informality. Somewhere in between. From me to you. A shared experience— An intangibly immersive one. You will be kept posted as I explore further.

Why New York? Because no one knows what the next day, hour, or minute will bring. I invite you to join my ride of unexpected pursuits— Not just about what to do or eat but about what New York is really like. What people really do, how they really act, live, dress, speak, dance, scream, hug, drink, fight, run, work, party…

How everyone somehow goes to school or work unimaginably early in the morning and how they hit a different party every single night. How there is demand for literally anything. How you can never be unsatisfied, bored or out of options.

As opposed to the cliche, it’s not blondes who have more fun; it’s New Yorkers. And this blog is intended to share why it is like so. 

Get ready to enjoy your front-row ticket to what it is like to become a New Yorker at the comfort of your fingertips!

Sincerely, Yaprak.

2 comments

  1.     New York becomes you; you are becoming in your enthusiasm. I’ve just now realized I’ve forgotten the many meanings of the word forms of “become”: adjective,verb with two senses each, and many nuances I’ve probably forgotten from years ago. Fodder for poems I suppose.
        Anyway, welcome.

    Like

  2.     Hello new New Yorker in the making of artful articles of faith in fun. I used to read poetry in Columbus Circle near an entrance to Central Park and I wrote a somewhat whimsical or is it lamentable poem about the adventure. I called it “Reading in the Circle Square.”
        As a marketing ploy I used to read poetry out-loud in various places in New York City. I read in front of the Museum of Modern Art once. Someone who turned out to be a ticket taker at the entrance to the Museum on her lunch break liked it. I didn’t know that until I went inside. But unlike in the movies, no great romance followed.

    Like

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