Jane Denson, 10/29

        Last class' discussion of the Disneyfication of reality in relation to Eco's theoretical analysis got me thinking about the overwhelming sense of artificiality that manifests within the theme park, as well as the ideological undertones that are maintained there. Having been to both Disneyland and Disney World, I can safely say that upon entering the park, it feels as though your senses are being bombarded and that you have immediately crossed into another dimension, a purely fictional one. What is interesting here is that right before this "magical" transportation, you have to endure a robotic process when passing through security, which makes me wonder if this foreshadows, in a way, the robotic essence that is build into the park itself (e.g. the lines to ride the attractions, the restricted movement from the crowds, etc.). From my personal experience, I have found Disney to be rather grueling, in addition to a heightened reality. From a consumer's perspective, the park is stripped of all the world's negative aspects (e.g. poverty, hunger, trauma, etc.) and instead presents itself as the perfect American fantasy, which feels strange after multiple visits. Not only that, but the environment appears to be absent of all labor and hardship. However, I'm sure if you were to ask any employee, they would express how taxing and physically demanding their unique positions are, which may point to the larger notion that it takes a great deal of work to create a utopian realm and thus our actual society is far from it.

        Everything, from the fake grass to the whimsically sleek buildings (which look as though they can be inhabited) to the overbearingly jubilant actors, cements Disney as a place that can only be fictional. When I was little, I always bought into this alternate type of reality and observed the park as "magical," but this was simply because it constantly had an aura surrounding it that represented perfection. Now, I genuinely can't stand walking through there for the apparent reason that it lacks depth. Over the years, I learned that true beauty, unlike the superficial splendor Disney prefers to showcase, emerges from pain and frustration. Therefore, as a present-day attendee, I can't help but dislike the theme park for its highly manufactured qualities, emulation of nature's spectacles (e.g. wildlife in Animal Kingdom), and the grandeur of a depiction that it paints of American culture. Sure it can still be fun and adventurous, but what does that mean when it fails to capture life for what it is?