Alli Pens

  • From Tourist to Transplant

    Every day, I walk around the city, wanting to take a picture of each building, monument, and tree I pass. I know it seems ridiculous, especially because on my first ever visit to New York, I did all of the touristy things to try and get it out of my system. However, I cannot help but still feel like a visitor. I’m just as much fascinated by Tom’s Restaurant from Seinfeld as I am by the Empire State Building. Even when I have gotten used to the sights of my neighborhood and the seemingly million extravaganzas happening in the city, I look at them like it’s the first time.

    I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the sights of the city because I think it’s the awe in my expression that singles me out as a ‘transplant.’ That’s what the native New Yorkers call us people who have moved here: ‘transplants.’ It’s a label that I’ll never know if I’ll be able to shake both internally and externally. Like everyone else, I want to travel the world to find my place of belonging, and ever since I was a little girl who dreamed of being a popstar, an actress, a writer, I believed that New York would be that place for me.

    I know that right now it’s a bit difficult for me to feel at home here. I mean, I have yet to establish a life here, but the process of doing just that is taking longer than I thought. It seems like everyone already has their social circles, their 401ks, their lives already established. Logically, I know that’s not true. The city is filled with people like me who are just trying to find their way, but when you don’t know what’s going on in the lives of the people you walk past on the street, you assume you are alone in these thoughts.

    When I first moved here, I met a lady in line for the Staten Island ferry (she was there for work while my family and I were there just to say we’ve hit all five boroughs). We were telling her about our trip and what we wanted to see next, and she had mentioned that she had never seen the Empire State Building.

    “I’ve lived in Brooklyn my whole life, and never once had I gone to see the Empire State Building,” she told us. When we asked her how come she’s never gone to see it, she replied, “I don’t know. I just never have.”

    When I think back on that conversation now, I think I know the answer. For me, my dad, and my brother we have lived in Michigan our whole lives, and while it is an incredibly popular place to vacation in the summer, we rarely ever did tour our state. It’s only when my mom mentions that she wants to see the Sleeping Bear Dunes or the Pictured Rocks did we ever go to see them. When you grow up around tourist traps or popular sightings, you are almost numb to the significance they hold. For people who are not from where you are, they use their visit as an opportunity to seize and recognize the significance of the landmarks which make your home so special. However, for the people who live there, these landmarks are a part of their life, a part of their routine. And, it is very rare that we take a moment to reflect on the significance of our own lives and acknowledge the beauty of our routine. Instead, if you’re like me, you’ve spent most of your life wishing you were somewhere else, wishing you were someone else, and you don’t realize the beauty of your hometown until you leave it for good.

    Yesterday, I was walking back to my apartment after picking up dinner, and I saw a guy stop outside of Tom’s Restaurant. He did a double-take and the proceeded to take several pictures while standing in the middle of the crosswalk. I don’t know if I was the only one who noticed, but I remembered being in that same position just a few days ago. It was comforting to see someone just as excited about these landmarks as me even if he was blocking me from crossing the road. 

    I wonder if this awe will wear off and I’ll be like the people that have lived here their whole lives.  I wonder if I’ll start to take for granted the history of New York City like I had my own home. A part of me never wants to lose that awe because I get to see how lucky I am to have New York be a part of my journey, but it is that same thought that keeps me isolated from feeling at home here. However that thought process wants to balance itself out, we have yet to see, but I’ll keep you updated if it ever changes.

    By Allison Penski

  • Homesick

    I’ve been in New York for almost three weeks now, and I still have no sense of direction. I have no friends, no job, no money, and no way to know where to start. I’m here for grad school, but that doesn’t start for another week. So far, I’ve spent my time sitting in my room and applying for jobs that I won’t hear back from for months only to get a generic email that says I’m not qualified, but that’s an issue for another post. 

    It’s strange to be in this purgatorial stage because I’ve never really experienced anything quite as lonely, quite as depressing, quite as degrading before. As a kid, I was a social butterfly, and even in college, my roommate helped to pull me out of my shell the second we met. Here, it seems like everyone has got everything already figured out. They have a salary, a routine, a group of people to confide in. The last time I had any of that was when I was back in Michigan. And, while being in New York is a step closer to the life I have always wanted for myself, I miss the sense of familiarity and control that I had in Michigan.

    I call my parents everyday, not to tell them a new story, but to get glimpses of the life that I had left. I have them call me every time our dog starts acting cute or something dramatic happens in the small town I grew up in. I stalk my friends’ social media accounts in order to feel like we’re going to go out to our college bars later that night. I miss seeing these people, sharing laughs, going on side quests just to add to our lore. But, we’re all grown now, and my closest friend is still three hours away from me. It’s going to be alright, I know that. We’re all going to visit each other at some point and do annual reunions, but until we reach that point, I’m stuck here. I’m like a castaway, stranded on an island, waiting for someone to save me because I can barely keep my head above water.

    I post pictures of the places that I pass on my walks to make it seem like I’m having a great time. However, the real reason I’m even walking is because I’m scared I’ll run out of money for the subway. It’s not cool to admit we’re struggling on the internet, but right now, I really am. We all do at some point, and this is that point in time for me. I miss home, my friends, my family, the food of the midwest, and the knowing that everything would be okay. I moved to New York because I wanted a life that was more than ‘okay.’ I want adventure, success, to explore new places and try new things. There’s no reward without risk, and right now, I’m feeling the weight of that risk.

    My life’s still on track, but right now it’s taking a detour to avoid the construction. Until I get to the point where the roads are clear again, I’m going to do what I’ve always done, write about my life. If you’d like to join me while I navigate New York City and pull my way out of purgatory, then you can find me right here on allipens.com.

    Written by Allison Penski