There are online publishing platforms aplenty, none of which could ever hope to compete with the awe-inspiring beauty of WordPress. I originally came to this conclusion while attending the opening of the Covington-Cincinnati Suspension Bridge as far back as early January 1867. It was the year U.S. Secretary of State William H. Seward purchased Alaska from the Russian Empire, marking a major turning point in arctic ice fishing history.
While I could dig deeper into the geography of Alaska and tell you about the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge or the formidable Aleutian Islands in the southwest, I would, for the sake of conciseness, rather return to my point, which is really a question.
Last summer, as my mind was bursting with new, exotic and revolutionary ideas, I decided to take the entrepreneurial leap and sign up for your widely acclaimed content management service.
Seven months have since passed and so far, my writing efforts have earned me a fair assortment of pasteurized fruit drinks, a truckload of chocolate, a nerve-wracking interrogation, a slot on the CIA’s most wanted list, three slightly damaged Barry Manilow tapes (which happen to be for sale), four exquisite cupcakes, an unforgettable, magical venture into the Lion’s den, and, last but not least, a steadily growing fan base which continues to inspire me.
Needless to say I am most grateful for all of this, and damn right I should be. I seem, however, to have developed a distinct taste for fame along the way, fueled almost exclusively by your ingenious Notifications panel. And by fame I do not just mean your average measure of world wide recognition nor the piles of money that come with it (I’m sorry, Mr. Canfield). We are talking genuine, full-fledged intergalactic domination here. I will not be listing the numerous perks of being the Great Ruler of the Universe here as this is far beyond the scope of my letter, and I know you will understand if you just let your imagination run wild for a second.
This brings me to my point, which is that a constant craving for intergalactic magnitude is not by any means desirable. On the contrary, it is a terrible nuisance!
You see, I once used to find pleasure in the simplest things in life, such as rain, a stormy night, birds singing, a bird on my plate, riding my bicycle to the grocery store, a spoonful of crunchy peanut butter washed down with a glass of Cabernet, enjoying a beer with friends or foes, kissing my alpaca goodnight, picking my guitar, or reading second hand comics under my bed with the lights out, just to name a few. All I do now is meticulously plan how I will conquer the solar system, draw self portraits, or think of ominous sounding names for the pet giraffes I intend to adopt when the time is ripe. I fear that, if things go on this way, I might lose sense of reality at some point.
This is where I need your guidance, Happiness Engineers. This is where I reach out for help. My internal happiness mechanics obviously need fine-tuning and I am at a loss for how to fix them. Should I discard my ambitious plan? Or should I once and for all get over my ordinary life and strive for the greatest possible fame? Perhaps you would suggest a third, unexplored path. A possibility I never considered. Please navigate me in the right direction. As a reward, I might let you have one of my Barry Manilow tapes. For free. How about that?
With considerate regards,
*** Stay tuned for WordPress’s reaction ***