Mickey Mouse Is My Mentor
Wednesday, January 13. 2010
I've been down on the Disney Experience recently. There's been a long, slow decline of the "wonder" factor for a couple of decades, and it's not just because I've been getting older. Still, when one lives in Central Florida, it's difficult to divorce oneself completely from the biggest behemoth in the Tourist Zone.
Thus, when friends visited from out of town recently, we duly found ourselves wandering through the World. As we sat and watched the opening of Fantasmic one chilly evening, as I watched the star of the show magically appear on stage and shoot sparkly fireworks from his sleeves to thunderous applause, I realized the guy has a pretty good thing going, and I couldn't help but envy him.
I want to be Mickey Mouse.
He's at the top of a huge, multinational corporation, but his only job is to make people smile. He's the responsible one (compared to Donald and Goofy), but he's still mischievous and not afraid to explore the edges of his world (a la Sorceror's Apprentice). He knows what he's doing, except when he's not supposed to. He's able to make magic, and make people's lives magical. He's universally loved.
Hmmm, wonder if the Sorceror's Apprentice Apprentice position is open?
I've been down on the Disney Experience recently. There's been a long, slow decline of the "wonder" factor for a couple of decades, and it's not just because I've been getting older. Still, when one lives in Central Florida, it's difficult to divorce oneself completely from the biggest behemoth in the Tourist Zone.
Thus, when friends visited from out of town recently, we duly found ourselves wandering through the World. As we sat and watched the opening of Fantasmic one chilly evening, as I watched the star of the show magically appear on stage and shoot sparkly fireworks from his sleeves to thunderous applause, I realized the guy has a pretty good thing going, and I couldn't help but envy him.
I want to be Mickey Mouse.
He's at the top of a huge, multinational corporation, but his only job is to make people smile. He's the responsible one (compared to Donald and Goofy), but he's still mischievous and not afraid to explore the edges of his world (a la Sorceror's Apprentice). He knows what he's doing, except when he's not supposed to. He's able to make magic, and make people's lives magical. He's universally loved.
Hmmm, wonder if the Sorceror's Apprentice Apprentice position is open?
Thus, when friends visited from out of town recently, we duly found ourselves wandering through the World. As we sat and watched the opening of Fantasmic one chilly evening, as I watched the star of the show magically appear on stage and shoot sparkly fireworks from his sleeves to thunderous applause, I realized the guy has a pretty good thing going, and I couldn't help but envy him.
I want to be Mickey Mouse.
He's at the top of a huge, multinational corporation, but his only job is to make people smile. He's the responsible one (compared to Donald and Goofy), but he's still mischievous and not afraid to explore the edges of his world (a la Sorceror's Apprentice). He knows what he's doing, except when he's not supposed to. He's able to make magic, and make people's lives magical. He's universally loved.
Hmmm, wonder if the Sorceror's Apprentice Apprentice position is open?
It's a Thin Line Between Love and Hate
Tuesday, November 17. 2009
We interrupt this writing blog for a completely unrelated rant.
Disney has announced—only via Twitter—that the Lights of Winter display at Epcot will not be installed for the holidays this year; no reasonable explanation given.
I think this may be the last straw for me, the one that breaks Walt Disney World's money-hungry back. The magic that WDW has represented for me has dwindled to a tiny spark but, unlike Tinker Bell, I think it's finally actually dying out. For years, Disney has been making cutbacks to the guest experience at WDW. It hasn't been the utopia it was in the 70's and 80's for a long, long time. But things have gotten much worse in the past couple of years.
Their first egregious offense was the closing of the Adventurers Club.
They closed all of Pleasure Island, of course, but quite frankly the loss of some dance clubs (there are plenty of those around) and an improv comedy club (there are other options in Orlando) didn't bother me beyond the insulting penny-pinching their closure represented. AC, however, was unique; there was no other place in the world like it. It took time for new guests to "get" it, but once you were part of the club, it was a unique, immersive comedy experience. AC was one of the most magical places at Disney for adults, and one of the few real attractions specifically geared toward the over-21 crowd. It worked, it was wonderful, it was magical, it made people smile.
So, of course, Disney killed it. They claimed their polls showed that guests would rather have "more dining and shopping options." Insert your profane interjection of choice here.
Last Christmas, they continued the cost cutting. They cancelled the nightly Tree Lighting Ceremony at Epcot. Why? Because it represented something magical for guests, and it cost money. Thus, onto the refuse pile it went.
This past fall, I attended the annual Food & Wine Festival at Epcot, as I've done every year since moving to Orlando. It was a major disappointment. Gone were most of the "extra" exhibits and experiences, and the previously free culinary and viticultural demonstrations were now available only for a fee. The Party for the Senses, literally the highlight of the Disney year for me, was a disgrace. The live entertainment was gone, the number of food choices was reduced, and, naturally, the price of tickets went up. Amazingly, they even created an "elite" area within the normal venue; for the privilege of sitting within this fenced-off area, one had to pay even more money, and they had security stationed to keep the "riff-raff" out—we "riff-raff" who had paid $135 each to be second-class citizens!
But now, they've removed one of my favorite parts of Christmas at Disney. I have always been mesmerized by the Lights of Winter during our frequent holiday trips to Epcot, and have been known to stop and wait for my favorite song to play: "Carol of the Bells." The arrangement they used, and the synchronized lights and fountain, represented pure magic to me, always bringing a smile to my face.
Ah, but Walt Disney World is no longer about smiles, is it? It's about the bottom line. It's about ignoring the quality of the guest experience. It's about moving people through, while extracting as much money from them as possible.
For me, and many other people, the magic is gone, replaced by stark economic reality. News flash to the Disney powers-that-be: I can get that at home. WDW is supposed to be about escapism, a brief flirt with utopia, a belief that anything can happen, a vacation for the soul. You know, magic.
Walt must be rolling over in his grave. Methinks he needs to pencil some hauntings into his schedule. Else I'm afraid—I hope, actually, if conditions don't improve—WDW may be joining him in the afterlife very soon.
We interrupt this writing blog for a completely unrelated rant.
Disney has announced—only via Twitter—that the Lights of Winter display at Epcot will not be installed for the holidays this year; no reasonable explanation given.
I think this may be the last straw for me, the one that breaks Walt Disney World's money-hungry back. The magic that WDW has represented for me has dwindled to a tiny spark but, unlike Tinker Bell, I think it's finally actually dying out. For years, Disney has been making cutbacks to the guest experience at WDW. It hasn't been the utopia it was in the 70's and 80's for a long, long time. But things have gotten much worse in the past couple of years.
Their first egregious offense was the closing of the Adventurers Club.
They closed all of Pleasure Island, of course, but quite frankly the loss of some dance clubs (there are plenty of those around) and an improv comedy club (there are other options in Orlando) didn't bother me beyond the insulting penny-pinching their closure represented. AC, however, was unique; there was no other place in the world like it. It took time for new guests to "get" it, but once you were part of the club, it was a unique, immersive comedy experience. AC was one of the most magical places at Disney for adults, and one of the few real attractions specifically geared toward the over-21 crowd. It worked, it was wonderful, it was magical, it made people smile.
So, of course, Disney killed it. They claimed their polls showed that guests would rather have "more dining and shopping options." Insert your profane interjection of choice here.
Last Christmas, they continued the cost cutting. They cancelled the nightly Tree Lighting Ceremony at Epcot. Why? Because it represented something magical for guests, and it cost money. Thus, onto the refuse pile it went.
This past fall, I attended the annual Food & Wine Festival at Epcot, as I've done every year since moving to Orlando. It was a major disappointment. Gone were most of the "extra" exhibits and experiences, and the previously free culinary and viticultural demonstrations were now available only for a fee. The Party for the Senses, literally the highlight of the Disney year for me, was a disgrace. The live entertainment was gone, the number of food choices was reduced, and, naturally, the price of tickets went up. Amazingly, they even created an "elite" area within the normal venue; for the privilege of sitting within this fenced-off area, one had to pay even more money, and they had security stationed to keep the "riff-raff" out—we "riff-raff" who had paid $135 each to be second-class citizens!
But now, they've removed one of my favorite parts of Christmas at Disney. I have always been mesmerized by the Lights of Winter during our frequent holiday trips to Epcot, and have been known to stop and wait for my favorite song to play: "Carol of the Bells." The arrangement they used, and the synchronized lights and fountain, represented pure magic to me, always bringing a smile to my face.
Ah, but Walt Disney World is no longer about smiles, is it? It's about the bottom line. It's about ignoring the quality of the guest experience. It's about moving people through, while extracting as much money from them as possible.
For me, and many other people, the magic is gone, replaced by stark economic reality. News flash to the Disney powers-that-be: I can get that at home. WDW is supposed to be about escapism, a brief flirt with utopia, a belief that anything can happen, a vacation for the soul. You know, magic.
Walt must be rolling over in his grave. Methinks he needs to pencil some hauntings into his schedule. Else I'm afraid—I hope, actually, if conditions don't improve—WDW may be joining him in the afterlife very soon.
Disney has announced—only via Twitter—that the Lights of Winter display at Epcot will not be installed for the holidays this year; no reasonable explanation given.
I think this may be the last straw for me, the one that breaks Walt Disney World's money-hungry back. The magic that WDW has represented for me has dwindled to a tiny spark but, unlike Tinker Bell, I think it's finally actually dying out. For years, Disney has been making cutbacks to the guest experience at WDW. It hasn't been the utopia it was in the 70's and 80's for a long, long time. But things have gotten much worse in the past couple of years.
Their first egregious offense was the closing of the Adventurers Club.
They closed all of Pleasure Island, of course, but quite frankly the loss of some dance clubs (there are plenty of those around) and an improv comedy club (there are other options in Orlando) didn't bother me beyond the insulting penny-pinching their closure represented. AC, however, was unique; there was no other place in the world like it. It took time for new guests to "get" it, but once you were part of the club, it was a unique, immersive comedy experience. AC was one of the most magical places at Disney for adults, and one of the few real attractions specifically geared toward the over-21 crowd. It worked, it was wonderful, it was magical, it made people smile.
So, of course, Disney killed it. They claimed their polls showed that guests would rather have "more dining and shopping options." Insert your profane interjection of choice here.
Last Christmas, they continued the cost cutting. They cancelled the nightly Tree Lighting Ceremony at Epcot. Why? Because it represented something magical for guests, and it cost money. Thus, onto the refuse pile it went.
This past fall, I attended the annual Food & Wine Festival at Epcot, as I've done every year since moving to Orlando. It was a major disappointment. Gone were most of the "extra" exhibits and experiences, and the previously free culinary and viticultural demonstrations were now available only for a fee. The Party for the Senses, literally the highlight of the Disney year for me, was a disgrace. The live entertainment was gone, the number of food choices was reduced, and, naturally, the price of tickets went up. Amazingly, they even created an "elite" area within the normal venue; for the privilege of sitting within this fenced-off area, one had to pay even more money, and they had security stationed to keep the "riff-raff" out—we "riff-raff" who had paid $135 each to be second-class citizens!
But now, they've removed one of my favorite parts of Christmas at Disney. I have always been mesmerized by the Lights of Winter during our frequent holiday trips to Epcot, and have been known to stop and wait for my favorite song to play: "Carol of the Bells." The arrangement they used, and the synchronized lights and fountain, represented pure magic to me, always bringing a smile to my face.
Ah, but Walt Disney World is no longer about smiles, is it? It's about the bottom line. It's about ignoring the quality of the guest experience. It's about moving people through, while extracting as much money from them as possible.
For me, and many other people, the magic is gone, replaced by stark economic reality. News flash to the Disney powers-that-be: I can get that at home. WDW is supposed to be about escapism, a brief flirt with utopia, a belief that anything can happen, a vacation for the soul. You know, magic.
Walt must be rolling over in his grave. Methinks he needs to pencil some hauntings into his schedule. Else I'm afraid—I hope, actually, if conditions don't improve—WDW may be joining him in the afterlife very soon.
Fantasy Is the Best Reality
Friday, June 26. 2009
I finally shaved my head a few weeks ago, because I stopped living in a dream world, and started living in a fantasy world.
My hair's been slowly harvested over the past twenty years or so by pan-dimensional beings who need my dead cells to power the particle deflectors they use to keep their tiny world from being destroyed by passing dust motes. That's my theory, anyway. Well, they now have to find someone else's head to strip-mine, because I've embraced the Mace Windu look. I was getting dressed up for Star Wars Weekends (SWW) at Disney's Hollywood Studios here in Orlando, and I decided that a bald head looked more Jedi-like than a closely-cropped head with twenty years of harvesting behind it.
Yes, I do wear the Jedi robes for Star Wars Weekends. It is indeed a geek sign. I don't really care, because it's fun. It's one of the few times each year when I can substitute the fantasy in my head for the reality around me, and not be put away for a very long time.
Oh, there are some funny looks. But far more often, people react positively to seeing others embrace fantasy, and help them to visualize their own. I get many requests each year to have my picture taken with guests. I even get autograph requests, and I'm never sure how to react to that. (I'm not a cast member, nor am I a member of the Rebel Legion, who do send "official" representatives to SWW each year along with the 501st, so I don't want to misrepresent myself.)
The great thing about fantasy is that no one can take it away from you. No matter what you might think about your current reality, you can always escape into fantasy, whether it be a good book, a movie, or just a daydream. The opportunities to marry fantasy and reality—to "live out" one's fantasy—are few and far between, so I'm happy to take advantage of what SWW offers me, despite what others may think.
I'm hoping there are a great number of other people out there who feel as I do, because I'm working on a business plan for a new endeavor that depends upon this desire to mix fantasy and reality. It's a concept that would make Master Windu proud. Wish I had the Jedi Council's financial backing, though. It always takes money to make fantasy a reality.
I finally shaved my head a few weeks ago, because I stopped living in a dream world, and started living in a fantasy world.
My hair's been slowly harvested over the past twenty years or so by pan-dimensional beings who need my dead cells to power the particle deflectors they use to keep their tiny world from being destroyed by passing dust motes. That's my theory, anyway. Well, they now have to find someone else's head to strip-mine, because I've embraced the Mace Windu look. I was getting dressed up for Star Wars Weekends (SWW) at Disney's Hollywood Studios here in Orlando, and I decided that a bald head looked more Jedi-like than a closely-cropped head with twenty years of harvesting behind it.
Yes, I do wear the Jedi robes for Star Wars Weekends. It is indeed a geek sign. I don't really care, because it's fun. It's one of the few times each year when I can substitute the fantasy in my head for the reality around me, and not be put away for a very long time.
Oh, there are some funny looks. But far more often, people react positively to seeing others embrace fantasy, and help them to visualize their own. I get many requests each year to have my picture taken with guests. I even get autograph requests, and I'm never sure how to react to that. (I'm not a cast member, nor am I a member of the Rebel Legion, who do send "official" representatives to SWW each year along with the 501st, so I don't want to misrepresent myself.)
The great thing about fantasy is that no one can take it away from you. No matter what you might think about your current reality, you can always escape into fantasy, whether it be a good book, a movie, or just a daydream. The opportunities to marry fantasy and reality—to "live out" one's fantasy—are few and far between, so I'm happy to take advantage of what SWW offers me, despite what others may think.
I'm hoping there are a great number of other people out there who feel as I do, because I'm working on a business plan for a new endeavor that depends upon this desire to mix fantasy and reality. It's a concept that would make Master Windu proud. Wish I had the Jedi Council's financial backing, though. It always takes money to make fantasy a reality.
My hair's been slowly harvested over the past twenty years or so by pan-dimensional beings who need my dead cells to power the particle deflectors they use to keep their tiny world from being destroyed by passing dust motes. That's my theory, anyway. Well, they now have to find someone else's head to strip-mine, because I've embraced the Mace Windu look. I was getting dressed up for Star Wars Weekends (SWW) at Disney's Hollywood Studios here in Orlando, and I decided that a bald head looked more Jedi-like than a closely-cropped head with twenty years of harvesting behind it.
Yes, I do wear the Jedi robes for Star Wars Weekends. It is indeed a geek sign. I don't really care, because it's fun. It's one of the few times each year when I can substitute the fantasy in my head for the reality around me, and not be put away for a very long time.
Oh, there are some funny looks. But far more often, people react positively to seeing others embrace fantasy, and help them to visualize their own. I get many requests each year to have my picture taken with guests. I even get autograph requests, and I'm never sure how to react to that. (I'm not a cast member, nor am I a member of the Rebel Legion, who do send "official" representatives to SWW each year along with the 501st, so I don't want to misrepresent myself.)
The great thing about fantasy is that no one can take it away from you. No matter what you might think about your current reality, you can always escape into fantasy, whether it be a good book, a movie, or just a daydream. The opportunities to marry fantasy and reality—to "live out" one's fantasy—are few and far between, so I'm happy to take advantage of what SWW offers me, despite what others may think.
I'm hoping there are a great number of other people out there who feel as I do, because I'm working on a business plan for a new endeavor that depends upon this desire to mix fantasy and reality. It's a concept that would make Master Windu proud. Wish I had the Jedi Council's financial backing, though. It always takes money to make fantasy a reality.
Your Time Is Ajar
Friday, March 6. 2009
Why do I seem to think I can squeeze ever more activities into my day without giving something up?- I've been trying to get back into running regularly for weeks now—I need to get into the best running shape of my life for Goofy's Race and a Half Challenge 2010, so I want to build up my endurance starting ASAP, even though the event is still over ten months away.
- I decided a few weeks ago that none of the existing clients for Twitter on Linux meet my needs (advanced filtering while supporting multiple simultaneous users), so I started writing my own in Python.
- I'm working on research for a presentation I plan to give at a simulation conference in Las Vegas in April. The subject matter is not simple, and it's going to take me a good bit of time to make a decent set of slides.
- I told a friend today I'd be willing to help with some grant writing "on the side."
Those items represent new claims on my time that I've been trying to address recently or will have to address in the near future. Now, what makes me think I can just add these new rocks to my jar—without taking some others out?
Yet, what could I take out? Full-time job? Nope, don't want to eat Ramen noodles. Family? Unh-unh, come with me if you want to live. Sleep? Usually the default candidate, but always ends up pwning me in the end. So...this is why I don't crank out at least 1,667 words of novelage per diem these days.
What to do: reduce and simplify. Remove things I don't really have to do. Refrain from committing time to anyone without a specific goal and mechanism for creating that time (i.e., identification of what I can eliminate or postpone in order to fit that "rock" into my schedule).
New rock: 2 hours per day minimum to be spent on writing. It's not really "new," actually; I've been meaning to commit to this one for awhile. But now it's going to be the fourth biggest rock (behind the three listed just above). And I'll have to pulverize everything else and just make it fit.
I need a bigger jar. Hmmm...surely through some advanced quantum mechanics research...
by Brent W. York
in Disney, Running, Time, Writing
at
14:08
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Why do I seem to think I can squeeze ever more activities into my day without giving something up?
Yet, what could I take out? Full-time job? Nope, don't want to eat Ramen noodles. Family? Unh-unh, come with me if you want to live. Sleep? Usually the default candidate, but always ends up pwning me in the end. So...this is why I don't crank out at least 1,667 words of novelage per diem these days.
What to do: reduce and simplify. Remove things I don't really have to do. Refrain from committing time to anyone without a specific goal and mechanism for creating that time (i.e., identification of what I can eliminate or postpone in order to fit that "rock" into my schedule).
New rock: 2 hours per day minimum to be spent on writing. It's not really "new," actually; I've been meaning to commit to this one for awhile. But now it's going to be the fourth biggest rock (behind the three listed just above). And I'll have to pulverize everything else and just make it fit.
I need a bigger jar. Hmmm...surely through some advanced quantum mechanics research...
- I've been trying to get back into running regularly for weeks now—I need to get into the best running shape of my life for Goofy's Race and a Half Challenge 2010, so I want to build up my endurance starting ASAP, even though the event is still over ten months away.
- I decided a few weeks ago that none of the existing clients for Twitter on Linux meet my needs (advanced filtering while supporting multiple simultaneous users), so I started writing my own in Python.
- I'm working on research for a presentation I plan to give at a simulation conference in Las Vegas in April. The subject matter is not simple, and it's going to take me a good bit of time to make a decent set of slides.
- I told a friend today I'd be willing to help with some grant writing "on the side."
Yet, what could I take out? Full-time job? Nope, don't want to eat Ramen noodles. Family? Unh-unh, come with me if you want to live. Sleep? Usually the default candidate, but always ends up pwning me in the end. So...this is why I don't crank out at least 1,667 words of novelage per diem these days.
What to do: reduce and simplify. Remove things I don't really have to do. Refrain from committing time to anyone without a specific goal and mechanism for creating that time (i.e., identification of what I can eliminate or postpone in order to fit that "rock" into my schedule).
New rock: 2 hours per day minimum to be spent on writing. It's not really "new," actually; I've been meaning to commit to this one for awhile. But now it's going to be the fourth biggest rock (behind the three listed just above). And I'll have to pulverize everything else and just make it fit.
I need a bigger jar. Hmmm...surely through some advanced quantum mechanics research...
by Brent W. York
in Disney, Running, Time, Writing
at
14:08
| Comments (0)
| Google
| Share in LinkedIn
(Page 1 of 1, totaling 4 entries)