I am conflicted about the adult coloring book fad. On the one hand I often doodle while pondering the deeper meanings of existence (should I have a cookie now, or wait until after dinner?) and even color in those doodles, but as a child I usually struggled to stay within the lines while coloring, and on this hand I remember only the stinging criticisms of my scribbles. My mother liked to point out that my younger sister could color nicely, why couldn't I? You'd think that this sort of comparison would've made me hate my sister, but it didn't. I didn't hate my mom for saying it. No, I hated coloring, the thing that I did not excel at, it was to blame with its damn LINES that you should not cross! It was too strict, too arbitrary, too strident in its demands that you must stay within the boundaries imposed. To me, it was prison. And now to think that people find it restive and relaxing to color - as full grown human beings - is almost unimaginable. No one forcing you to color one more Thanksgiving hand-out portraying a native American foolishly aiding starving European refugees, but you choosing to color it.
Never say never, but I can't imagine joining in this coloring craze. For now I'll stick to my doodles...and maybe have a cookie.