The Dangers of Disney

While I certainly enjoyed my Disneyland vacation, I just wanted to warn all you fellow writers and poets out there that it’s in your best interest not to go.

You’ll find it too hard to return to normal life.

Whimsy and my brain are very compatible, you see, and I was only too willing to let the realms of wonderful fantasy ease my frazzled nerves for the weekend.  Instead of thoughts of homework or politics or how to navigate myself in social situations, I let myself be lulled into Fantasyland and Adventureland, magical, mystical places which bestow upon you laughter, diversions, and a sudden, staggering lack of responsibility of all sorts.  Such delicious phrases as “it all started with a mouse”, “faith, trust, and pixie dust” and “when you wish upon a star, your dreams will come true” wound their way into the passages of my brain and I slept each night in a blissful state of Disney-dominated peace.

And then a plane dumped me unceremoniously from the Magic Kingdom to home again, and it all feels so startlingly real.  So painfully solid.  Problems have that nasty habit of existing again.  I’m glad to see my friends and bird again, but my mind is busy trying to coerce me, telling me that it could get used to having nothing worse to fret over than where to eat and what to ride next.  Oh, I can churn out some wistful poetry, all right, but as far as being a productive member of society goes, I’m falling flat at the moment.

(Sigh.)  Excuse my lamentings.  This is only the first Danger of Disney you need to be enlightened to.

The second?

Since I’m me, the shop I was most excited to go to in Disneyland was the big Disney Kitchen store, Market House.  It’s full of cookbooks, fancy mouse-ear-adorned gadgets, wonderfully photogenic Minnie mugs, and…

I bought these Mickey pancake molds that I can already see myself having waaay too much fun with. 😉

Stay away from the Disneyland Market House, my fellow foodies; it’s much too dangerous!

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