There are a lot of terrific magazines out there, responsibly printed with soy inks in recycled paper, great stories, positive and earth saving messages. I just can’t get myself interested in any of them, try as I might.
When I sit down to read – or more likely, prop myself up with pillows and read in bed, after I’ve finished communicating for the day – I’m ready to lose myself in a book, or perhaps catch up with the Enquirer and every six weeks or so, CityBeat.
Somehow, magazines, no matter how wonderful, really don’t have appeal for me any more. Ode is terrific, and I barely even look at the headlines. I subscribed because I wanted to support their efforts to present positive messages and material. Body + Soul I get free, for clients to read. The cover says it’s got all the right articles about whole living, and I expect it does. Vegetarian Times has beautiful covers, so it makes it to the top of a stack on the coffee table. And Tennis I’ve been a subscriber to for centuries. Seldom read it now unless Roger Federer is on the cover. Cincinnati Magazine makes it to the coffee table, too – and if any one sitting on the couch is interested, I easily pass it on.
Not to mention all the magazines in racks all over the place. I probably bought 30 or more last year when the Obamas were on every cover. It was great to get an overview of what’s out there, and how the formats and content have changed over the years. That was evidently all I needed to catch up on.
Because even when they’re magazines on topics I care about and agree with their point of view, I don’t pick them up. Whatever switch there is in my head is turned completely off. I wonder why – but not enough to work at figuring it out. Probably multiple answers at multiple levels of importance – but really not important at all. I’m content to let that mystery remain.