When You Renew a Disney Annual Pass, You Think About Humanity

 
Jumping at Disney
 

I just renewed my Disney World annual pass and I can feel the judgment from people now, even though I’m alone in my apartment on my couch under a monkey blanket.

I mean, when you’re about to go back to Disney for your fifth time in a year, it’s understandable that people might start to give you looks and say things like “you’re going again?” and “so how many times is this?” and “geez girl why on earth do you like that place so much?”

For one, it’s pretty much the only thing I spend my money on, (besides, you know, rent). So instead of going to concerts or dropping $100 on a Target run, I raise a glass to Trader Sam’s and take tea at the Grand Floridian. Because my favorite things to do (outside of spending time with my family) are all in Orlando, it’s worth it to me to spend all my entertainment funds at once.

But I’m an adult, so that’s “not normal.” I think some people like me despite my obsession with a theme park, never because of it. They find it “cute” and “quirky” and say things like “oh that’s just Leeann. She loves Disney.” *knowing glance* (you know the one).

Okay I get it. It’s weird. It’s also weird to spend hundreds of dollars to swing sticks at white balls across acres of grass.

We all have favorite things we love to do that others wouldn’t spend a second even thinking about. But it’s the passion we have for what we love that makes us interesting humans. If we all loved doing the same things, the world would be an awfully boring place.

I like to think my colorful desk and Tsum Tsums hidden in my cabinet add a bit of spark to the office, just as my friend’s dinosaur plant and coworker’s record player add a bit of variety into what could be an otherwise invariable space.

I love people who love something. Watching people light up because of a moment that’s extra special to them makes me light up. Oh sure, my golf days are far behind me and I can’t imagine ever having a good time watching Vines all day. But getting to see other people enjoy those things authentically and with pure joy is - dare I say it - even better than a Disney annual pass.

In Which I Return

It's been three weeks since I've started my new job at Disney. But much longer since I've written anything on this page.

I've had the worst writer's block. Of all time, it feels like. Every time I sit down to right something, it comes out all wrong. All my ideas feel stale, overused. Anything I say is already said by far more qualified people.

So I said nothing. About my life, about Disney, about America. I didn't know how to.

But that's not why you're here. You're here to hear about what I'm up to, what I'm doing. That I can oblige.

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