I’m one of those people who reads magazines. A lot of magazines. I subscribe to at least half a dozen and am always picking up random issues when I’m at Target or Wal-Mart. At one time I read almost nothing but books, but as I got busier and busier, I got lazy and started reading magazines. At first it was to keep up with fashion. Now I think it’s just that my attention span is almost non-existent. So yesterday, on my way to bed, I decided it was time to pick up another book and actually attempt to finish it. For some strange reason I was compelled to re-read 1984 by George Orwell. Now, Animal Farm is one of my favorites and I’ve read it several times, but 1984 just called to me. Perhaps it was because I felt the need for something stimulating. Maybe I wanted to feel better about my own life. Regardless, I began it last night with the promise to myself not to let it gather dust beside my bed. We’ll see how it goes. The magazines beckon me as I received the latest In Style in the mail today.
Pretty Pretty Bang Bang 