I cannot understand this adult colouring book phenomenon. If you're not familiar with it, then, good for you; I suspect you're leading an interesting, fulfilling life.
In case you missed it, there's a big movement of (nearly all) women who, yes, colour. Yup, the verb. They colour inside the lines of pre-printed books, on paper, with crayons and pencil crayons. Most of the images I have seen are of fairies and flowers. I suspect there is likely a surfeit of unicorns. They colour in the pictures, just like they did when they were seven, although I hope with a bit more skill. It's a real thing. It's asinine.
The other day, I overheard two women talking about their colouring efforts and showing off their respective works, gushing over how marvelously relaxing it was and how there were times they just didn't want to engage their brains, and how colouring provided a creative outlet they just couldn't get anywhere else.
"Yes," I thought to myself, "God forbid you engage your brain. Or learn something, or be moved by actual art or create something lasting or useful, or feel anything but relaxation."
Well, actually, I didn't say that to myself. I said it out loud and the two women spent quite some time failing to convince me of the merits of their efforts, with several citations of relaxation as their prime motivator for taking up a child's activity. One of the two says she actually hurt herself while colouring, which tells me more about her physical fitness than anything else.
I. just. can't. even.
I am truly at a loss for words to describe my thorough disgust at this trend. I usually don't care what other people get up to in their spare time, but I'm practically apoplectic about this.
Is it the clear waste of paper and effort and brain power that annoys me so deeply?
Is it the breezy anti-intellectualism?
Is it my Scottish background and the horror I feel encountering a belief that relaxation should be the default aim in life?
I really can't say, but I will sort out my feelings after I read something challenging and take some exercise; perhaps I will ponder it more while working on my latest quilt or making a from-scratch dinner for my sweetheart.
If I have time, that is.