Finished with Finals

I'm done with my finals. I only took Art Class this semester and I passed with a 97% . I am very happy with my final grade. I am almost done with school. I just have math and science left. I can't wait for the adventures that lay beyond college. For my art final We had to do another self portrait. I went for Ancient Egyptian queen. I've loved Ancient Egypt ever since I was little and in the fifth grade when we had to write a paper on what we wanted to be when we grew up I was about to write down Anubis Priestess, but my teacher told me to choose another job.

I chose to be a writer and it has been the greatest choice I have ever made. I like writing because you can mummify people without all the hard work and waiting. I kid of course. Writing gives me the freedom to travel to the furthest places of the imagination and meet the people I would never be able to meet. Writing has been the greatest adventure for me and I look forward to the day when I hold my first published work in my hands. Becoming an author is the next great adventure for me.

A Timeline of Teachers

The true test of a teacher is whether they can get their students to believe in themselves. I've had many teachers over some good, some bad, and some that were somewhere in between. These are the teachers that taught me about writing today.

In the 6th grade I was put into Special Ed because they had no idea where to put me. I was confused by the schedule because it said Special Ed was in a trailer. I later learned that this trailer was outside of school on the sweltering asphalt right beside the track and basketball court. It seemed strange to me that the people needing extra help were place outside of the school. I met Mrs. Green and thought she would be the teacher for me, but things changed. During our lessons I began to notice a man in a blue dress shirt listening in. Sometimes he would catch me staring at him and his light blue eyes would cross with mine. I would duck my head not wanting him to know I that I was staring. Then not even in the first quarter of our semester Mrs. Green told us she was being transferred to a different school and that the man, Mr. Rasch would be replacing her. I don't like change and I was sure this was going to be the change I would dread the most, but it ended up being one of the best changes. I used to love writing in Elementary school, but after teachers complained again and again about my hand writing I began to develop apathy for it. One day I refused to write and after a long debate Mr. Rasch asked me, “How do know that you don’t like writing if you haven’t tried it? Just pick up the pencil and try. I don't care what you write, just write.” He handed my first wide ruled cherry red notebook and forced a pencil in my hand. I began to write like I had loved to so long ago and Mr. Rasch rekindled that flame in me that had almost gone out. He began to teach me the mechanics of writing, where to put quotes on dialogue, the difference between their and there, and the tricky words that are similar, but are different in meaning like reveal and revel. He even let me read one of my early (awful) stories in class known as the Legacy Riders and taught me that the best way to correct your writing is to read it out and not to be afraid of the harsh criticism to come.

In the 7th grade I began to write longer stories and started on my first novel. I was worried because I wouldn't be seeing Mr. Rasch as much, but he assured me that change was good and it was. I met Ms. Villa or as I liked to call her Ms. Viva Diva, she did have this exceptional flare for the dramatic. Ms. Villa was Hawaiian born and raised before she moved to Colorado. Aside from her room being decorated in all purple I noticed the Orlando Bloom posters above her desk and wondered what kind of teacher she was going to be. She turned out to be a very fun and energetic teacher and she noticed my skill for writing very early on. She taught me how to spell important words and build my prose. She was the first one I shared my very first novel with. Although the novel wasn't very good, she encouraged me to continue to write. "You'll only get better from here," she'd always say. After the 7th grade I was worried I wouldn't have her like, but Ms. Villa wasn't done with me yet and requested me to be her Teacher Assistant. Aside from making copies for her and helping her with the occasional prank on another teacher she would let me have time to write. Sometimes she would glance over my shoulder and tell me what I needed to fix. Come Christmas time she gave me the books that would influence my fantasy writing for years to come, The Chronicles of Narnia. She told me if I read and learned from great Authors I could become one. 

8th grade also gave me my most interesting teacher to date Mrs. Lewis. Mrs. Lewis recognized I was gifted in writing early on when I was able to give all the names of the Grecian gods in a test correctly. She began to give me names of books I should study and read. She spurned my interest in Edgar Allan Poe and the strange and macabre things he would write. It was in Mrs. Lewis class that I began to read books like Frankenstein, Dracula, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. At the end of Middle School Mrs. Lewis later awarded me with the Edgar Allan Poe Award for most likely to become a writer.

In the 9th grade after being diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome right before High School, it was an exceptionally hard transition, a transition made all the more difficult by the sudden abrupt change in scenery, people, and teachers. One of the first classes I went to was with Mrs. Ramsey. She was already a legend in her own right. She had done more than a 100 mainstay productions at Westminster High School. Her drama classes taught me more about how to communicate and get up in front of a class. Later on into high school I would have her as a Language Arts teacher and these classes proved to be instrumental in my writing. I learned how to just write and keep on writing even if you know what you are writing sucks. The best part about writing is that it’s not a performance because you can go back and change it.

In the 9th grade as well after a long day I made it to my Language Arts Class where I met Ms. Minter. I had met her previously in a parent teacher conference to talk about my disability. Ms. Minter became instrumental in my success at High School. She was one of the greatest helps to me. After 9th grade she asked me if I wanted to use my talents for writing and join Yearbook class. I joined yearbook and stayed in yearbook for the last three years of High School. I started slowly in Yearbook, not really knowing what I was doing, but all the while Ms. Minter pushed me just enough to get me going. I began to write the beginnings of the yearbooks upon her urging and in my Senior Year I became the Editor In Chief. Ms. Minter perhaps is one of the only people who saw my progress from being a semi-functional adult to a high-functioning adult. Over the years the conversations about me slowly changed into asking Minter about her life and interests. Minter was really the only one I could practice on without the fear of being judged. Her belief in me helped me learn what I would need if and when I became an author.

Senior Year I was going to take Ms. Minter's senior seminar class, but she decided last minute that she wasn't going to teach so I received Mrs. Sobol instead. Mrs. Sobol would be the teacher that decided it all for me. I knew I wanted to be an author and our Senior Seminar class focused on the fundamentals of the jobs we would want outside of High School. Mrs. Sobol spurned my interests in writing and funneled them down into something useful. At the end of Senior Seminar we presented our projects that we had been working on throughout the year and she was indeed blown away by my progress.   

By College I began to focus and work on becoming an author. Perhaps the best class I took on writing was not about the mechanics of writing at all, but the stories of American Literature where I met Mr. Morris. Mr. Morris' class was engaging because we read the text and then discussed what made the story good or bad and how they implemented a theme and foreshadowing throughout the text. I later went on to take Mr. Morris' fiction writing class and he told us it would be the class to decide whether we were writers or authors. We were tasked with the challenge of doing Nanowrimo as our end project. If we could write 50,000 words in a month we were well on our way to writing other great books. Mr. Morris helped pinpoint the weaknesses of my stories and I was surprised to find out that the strength of my stories was in the dialogue and he told me to focus more on the dialogue rather than the action itself.

The college class that surprised me was of course the one I was dreading to take. We had a choice between Speech and Debate or Interpersonal Communications. I don't like arguing with people so I chose Interpersonal Communications and met Hermy McCabe. She preferred to be called Hermy because she felt being called Mrs. McCabe was too formal. She would be the teacher that finally pushed me to write my memoir, though I had been working on it since High School. I thought I wasn't ready to write it because a lot of the memories were still too raw, but she assured me that the best time to write is now and never later. I learned that Hermy was a self-published author herself and she began to teach me a few tricks of the trade. There is no doubt in my mind that I was supposed to meet Hermy at this point in my life so that I could go onto my dream of becoming a published Author. 

Tis' the Season for Holiday Cheer

I've been sick for about a week now and I finally felt better to get up and decorate the Christmas tree. We have six popcorn tins filled ornaments so it was quite the undertaking (wait until my mom decorates the entire living room). Christmas time is one of my favorite times of the years besides Thanksgiving. Its also a great time to be with loved ones. As you can no doubt guess I love my family very dearly. Our traditions over the past years included not putting names on the outside of the presents, but on the inside to make the gift of giving more fun. When my nieces and nephews got older we changed this so that they could find the ones they wanted, but they still delight in opening all the presents. Despite the change of traditions one thing remains the same. Christmas has always been centered on Christ, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).

Deviation of Tests

Recently I watched John Oliver's take on standardized testing (if you'd like to you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6lyURyVz7k) and I had my own feelings about it as well. My life has been a standard deviation of tests. I was born in 1992 and by the time I was nine in 2001 Bush initiated the No Child Left Behind Act and I began to see an increase in tests at school. I went through many tests when I was younger and the tests only built. In the 3rd grade when we were taught to write cursive I was constantly badgered for my bad hand writing and the inability to fill in the bubbles on tests correctly, they were not dark enough. Then in the fifth grade they tested me and figured out I had Dysgraphia, which not only causes the tremors in my hands, but also my bad hand writing. With the new diagnosis and poor CSAP (Colorado Model Content Standards) scores I was placed in Special Ed Class a sweltering white trailer on the asphalt outside of the Middle School. Special ED was a strange place for the school to put those of us who didn't test well or didn't know how to test. In Special Ed we were faced with even more tests to improve our reading scores. We were given the SRA (Student Reading Assessment) a test, that seemed it was made for a third grader rather than a 6^th grader. I got out of Special Ed, but was still required to go through SRA classes every single year in Middle School. By the seventh grade tests showed I was writing at a 9th grade level, but I was testing at a 5th grade level for math. At the end of the Eighth grade right before summer came I was tested and diagnosed with a form of High Functioning Autism known as Asperger Syndrome. 

When I got of High School I hoped that there would be an end to testing, but there was only more. Teachers took time away from their teaching to teach us how to test. We continued with CSAP and on top of that we had additional math and writing tests every semester to see if we improved. By senior year I was all too familiar with testing, but we began to prepare for a new kind of test, the ultimate test, ACT. We were taught to speed through the test, yet take our time, an oxymoron unto itself. We were taught to speed read in order to get all our answers down. When the time came to take the test we were made to think we were skillfully prepared. The added pressure of time only added to the stress of taking the test. I scored low on the ACT not enough to skip the Accuplacer required to get into Front Range Community College. I wondered if would be able to get out of the Accuplacer because of my autism, but I learned a hard unwavering truth: When you become an adult with autism there is no more help from school for you. The only help given is extra time on tests and the possibility of using a laptop in class to take notes. I took the Accuplacer test and placed into an intermediate class for English, but I failed to place in Math meaning I would have to pay to take the Accuplacer again so that I could get into an intermediate Math class and Math class in the same semester. Though there have been egregious tests I have learned to excel in spite of them. I am member of Phi Theta Kappa and an honor student. So what has testing taught me? Testing has taught me two things: 

1. It is a select skill that all too few students have acquired

2. I am not good at taking tests.

What does this mean? America has taught its students to test and to test well. If you can test well, maybe you can go to college. If you test well maybe you can get your degree. If you test well you can get another advanced degree. If you get a degree maybe you can get a job even though you don't require the job experience for it. Once you get out in the real world it’s the set of skills you've been given and not the exactness of how you've taken a test. Do you see the problem? The problem is always maybe there is no definite yes. Why should college hinge on a single test that if you fail you are barred from your degree until you succeed? Shouldn't college be opened to all those who want to strive to achieve? Shouldn't college be a place not of privilege and eventual poverty, but of a place promise and hopes for a brighter future?    

           

AED dictionary: Dance - The artistic form of nonverbal communication

When I was younger there was nothing more I enjoyed doing then dancing on my Grandpa Wilcox's toes. He was a phenomenal dancer when he was in his younger years and even as he got older he could still dance. His dance partner in life was Gloria Wilcox. When my Grandmother Gloria succumbed to the effects of diabetes she could no longer dance with him, but they sat together in their living room and watched all the old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films and in the evening they would watch Lawrence Welk. Even after her death my Grandpa continued the ritual of watching Lawrence Welk. Every Saturday evening when I went over to his house to help my mother clean, Lawrence Welk would be blaring from the TV. I would dance to it as I mopped the floor. Sometimes Grandpa would shuffle into the kitchen to see what I was doing. He couldn't really lift his feet anymore so he would always drag them across the floor. I’d catch him smiling in at me and he’d beam clench his fists and shimmy his upper body. I like to call that the grandpa shuffle. I’d dance around him as he went about getting something to eat. It was because of his love of dance that I love to dance as well, but never publicly. I once embarrassed myself at a singles dance after a full day of activity and I broke down. Breaking down is always at the back of an Aspie’s mind, it’s never the fear of dancing itself. I still love to dance and last Saturday when we went to a Wedding Reception all the guests were dancing. One of my close friends was up there dancing the night way. She is very outgoing and more fluent in the social scene then I am. Shut Up and Dance with began to play and my friend spotted me sitting on the side. She danced over and pulled me in. I am very happy to have friends who challenge me to do things even if I only danced for only a few minutes. Those few minutes are vital to build up to dancing longer. I look forward to the day when I go to another dance.

Also here is the music video for Shut Up and Dance With Me by Walk the Moon. 

Strange music video, but I still like the song

 

First Attempt at a self portrait

I've never really been one for painting, but I enjoy the quiet simplicity of it. Painting is very forgiving because if there's something you don't like you can just add more paint and correct it. This may not be my best work, but it most certainly won't be my last. My last project in art class is to paint another self portrait. I've always had trouble painting my nose ever since my sixth grade Art Class. Why you ask? Well in my 6th Grade Art class we had to do side profiles. I had been previously bullied about my nose from some very rude kids. To add to this the boys in Art Class were talking about what things were ugly. Other classmates chimed in “spiders” “worms” “warts” and then they began to name people. I sank low in my chair. I knew my place in the class food chain and I was right at the bottom. I tried to hide as far in my chair as I could go. As the names grew more playful I sank further into my chair until I was practically on the floor.
“The ugliest has to be Diana,” one of the boys said.
Their laughter was cut short by something slamming hard across the table followed by the definite roar of my teacher, Mrs. Clark, “Stop it! Stop it all of you! Disgraceful! Disrespectful! I thought you’d never stoop so low!”

She flew across the room toward the boys her face redder than the kiln. She extended a long wagging finger, brow furrowed, and shoulders arched.

“You know what’s ugly?!” she shouted face to face with the young boy. “Every one of you! How dare you bully her! I should have you marched straight up to the principal’s office if I weren’t so disgusted!”

Then tears began to form in her eyes and I realized it was no longer about me, the bully had brought back something painful from her past.

“Its kids like you that disrupt dreams, wreck lives, and destroy creativity! You are a disgrace! A disgrace! Now I want you to apologize to her and then get out! Get out! I don’t ever want to see you here again because you don’t deserve art!” she continued pointing to the door.

“Sorry,” the boy swallowed hard and he gathered his things and ran out.

Mrs. Clark slammed the door behind him her lip puckered. She tried to hold back the tears.

“That…” she began, but her voice broke and she shook her finger at the door, “that is what ugliness is. A bully. A thief. Never be that! If you become that you destroy the dreamers of the future they who hope to be better than they are. Diana, are you okay?”

I had no words to speak. I was astounded and nodded a simple yes. Mrs. Clark tented her tears and turned her back to the class. It was through art I learned to express myself and I continue to do so today. There are still some things I need to fix about myself and lets face it we all do, but my nose isn't one of those things.

Obsession into Joy

Last night as I went about cleaning my room I discovered my old notebooks sitting at the bottom of a bookshelf in my closet. I thought it would be a fun idea to take the notebooks out and see how many I have. So I devised a clever plan to stack them next to the dresser and count them. I piled them high and was surprised to find that I have 68 notebooks and a large three ring binder filled with stray pages. 68 notebooks is a far cry from the 25 notebooks I started off with in middle school, though my obsessions for writing began long before then. My father used to tell us stories about the brave and sometimes erratic adventures of Dr. Indiana Jones. Sometimes they would be silly like Indiana Jones had to use a cough drop to stop a coffin from attacking. Other ones were grand adventures like finding the ancient city of Atlantis or lost Mayan tombs. My father helped me develop a taste for oral storytelling, but I was not as strong as speaking aloud as I was putting words to page. By the 3^rd Grade I had read the entire dictionary front to cover. I loved words and if there was a word I didn’t know I would figure out its meanings. Hymns in church and scriptures also helped me develop a taste for words. Throughout elementary school I wrote short stories, but that changed for me in the 3^rd Grade when I had to learn cursive. My teacher found my handwriting atrocious and made me do drills again and again to learn how to write. This went on throughout elementary school until I was diagnosed at the end of the 4^th grade with Dysgraphia. Dysgraphia means that the muscles in my hands didn’t form write causing tremors and sometimes pain when writing, I write fast to avoid this pain. Trying to make my handwriting legible was a seemingly impossible feat, while it has improved over the years it will never be perfect. I love my handwriting because I can read it and no one else can. By the time I reached Middle School they felt something was still wrong and placed me in Special Ed class. At first I thought it was a mistake, but it turned out to be one of the best things. In Special Ed Class our teacher Mrs. Green was replaced with Mr. Rasch and he taught me how to write better than before. Had it not been for him I would not be the novelist I am today because he had faith in me when other teachers doubted. From there on I soared. I wrote my first novel in 7^th grade, my first musical in 8^th, and my first 1000 page book by Junior year in High School (no one ever told me that novels should be no more than 100,000  words, unless you’re already a successful published author). Yet after all the fantasy and science fiction I wrote I couldn’t put a word to page about my own story until now. It will be ten years in April that I’ve been diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome, what a perfect time to start penning the story of my life. Writing may be my obsession, but it has turned into a dream filled with the hope that one day I will be the published author my 10 year old self never thought I could be.

A Day in the Life of An Adult With Anxiety

I was not feeling well Sunday and stayed home from church. On Monday morning after a very restless night (nights are usually restless) I woke up early and despite not being my best I showered and got into my car. I've had my permit for four years, but didn't drive for a long time until my sister-in-law exchanged driving lessons for babysitting her children. I've only had my license coming on two years and I'm working on driving on the highway, but that's still a long ways off since my 21 year old car is not the fastest and tends to shake like a rocket when barreling down a road at 50 mph...I don't want to know what it does at 65 or 70 (fall apart?). I'm okay to drive, but I don't like the unpredictability of it because you never know what other drivers are going to do especially if they're being their usual idiotselves on the road (I can't believe that some people aren't allowed to drive, I guess that's how you learn though). However my Grandpa taught me to assume the other person is going to make a mistake so this eased my anxiety a little bit, besides I am the one in control of my car and I won't be the one who makes stupid decisions on the road. Second, I had to navigate the College parking lot, which college students aren't always the best drivers and I've had my fair share of almost being hit. I like to park away from other cars. Second I love school and the freedom of having a very open schedule. Before in High School I had seven to eight classes in a day with heaps of homework on top of it and I was prone to breaking down two to three times a week due to the stress. Needless to say my grades suffered. However in college I like to take two or three classes a semester its better on me and my grades don't suffer. After I learned this I became an Honor Student with Phi Theta Kappa lets hope I can hold that title when I do math next year. School is fun, but sometimes its a little hard for me to socialize, but as soon as I get going then I'm find. Third I had to drive again on a three lane road, merge through all three lanes, get to the turn lane, and find a parking space. 

Dramatization of driving, I wish that was my corvette 

Then I went to Subway and ordered food, which before I never liked this interaction because I had to communicate to someone what I wanted and that's always a difficult thing for someone with Asperger Syndrome. After lunch I drove another ten minutes and went straight to work. Work during the winter is slow I usually work when I am called, I'm like their minute man if the true receptionist gets sick. The thought of work would've driven my teenage self to tears. Its not really a fear of work, but a fear of going and socializing that really worried me. I had always embraced the stereotype that people with disabilities weren't able to work. This is a huge misconception there are many of us who do work and sometimes were better suited for some jobs then others based on the specialized skills we come with. People with Autism have a very select group of skills like I am very good with writing and editing, but I'm not so great with math and statistics. I didn't think I was very good with socializing, but my job requires that I answer the phones and make sure the contact gets to the right person and if the person isn't available I have put them through to their voicemails. This is unusual for a girl who didn't learn how to answer the phone by the time she was 20 (I still prefer text message maybe because I'm better at communicating through words then speech). After learning my job I became comfortable with my position and the people around me. After work I got home at 5 and debated whether to go to the Singles Ward Family Home Evening (social gathering of young single adults where we have fun activities), which is another 15 minute drive in the dark, socializing again, and another 15 minutes back. After a full day of social interactions and not being able to decompress (decompression is an important stage where an individual with autism unwinds from the day by doing their favorite activity mine is writing). I decided to stay home because there's always this nagging fear of breaking down in front of people, which I get embarrassed by. Its not that I don't like going, I enjoy it thoroughly, but after a long day of social interactions it was a little much. However I am slowly working up to it and looking forward to the day when I can go to social functions after work. Anxiety is a real thing, that I tend to overthink and I know I'm not the only one with anxieties, what are some of yours?

The World of Kong: A Natural History of Skull Island (King Kong)

Just got my copy of The World of Kong: A Natural History of Skull Island off of Amazon. For years now I've been fascinated with King Kong ever since my Grandfather Lealand Wilcox told me of the day when he and his brothers snuck into the movie theater to see the now infamous film King Kong. He thought it was a terrifying sight to behold, but he though the monkey needed to look more terrifying then being silly. 72 years later in 2005 after a disappointing 1976 cash grab failure Peter Jackson put his cinematic talent to the awesome feature King Kong and came out successful. While I feel that Jack Black was miscast as Carl Denham I loved the world of Skull Island Peter Jackson created and the raw power of the creatures he brought to screen specifically the V. Rexes. I was 13 at the time when I first saw King Kong and like moviegoers before I was thrilled by what I saw. King Kong was a rare treat because movies now lack the monsters epics that made Universal Studios king back in the day. I wanted to explore this world for myself and recently learned there was a book I rushed to amazon to purchase it and I wasn't disappointed. First flip through there was dazzling concept art and detailed descriptions on each animal within Skull Island. Not only this, but I loved the fact that the people of the Weta Workshop dressed up as 1930's expeditioners and posed for a photo at the very back. This little thing brought the book full circle. I can't wait to read it.

Beginning Nanowrimo

Yesterday was the beginning of Nanowrimo, but I was at church, so today I am starting...yay. That's a less than enthusiastic cheer. I love to write, but the hardest part about writing for me is always the beginning. I usually like to start on the end and work may up. I tend to write five or sometimes ten different beginnings before the story starts to flow. I guess I'm more a visual learner that I like to see things in my head before committing them to paper. However in that moment when it comes to put ink to paper the transition is sometimes awkward, but then it begins to work out eventual. I learned early on that when faxed wit ha blank white computer page I have a hard time typing because I end up erasing it all. A notebook enables me to write down whatever I want and make mistakes, which I illegibly scratch out with ink. A notebook gives me the freedom of making mistakes, but the best part is when I write out on a notebook and go back to type up on the computer I have an easier time plotting things out rather then trying to go through and read a microsoft word document. However writing drafts in a notebooks has one monstrous downside, what does one do with all the notebooks filled with drafts? They're half way to the top of my dresser
 

Ten years with Autism and Nanowrimo

I've made it my goal this year to work on my memoir Diana the Dreamer and Things that Begin with D by entering into Nanowrimo again and trying to write 50,000 words in the month of November. It has almost been ten years since I was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome a form of High Functioning Autism. While it has been a long, but rewarding road from being socially awkward to being socially adequate, autism has blessed my life tremendously. My book is about:

Diana the Dreamer and Things that Begin with D chronicles my adventure of being diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome a form of High Functioning Autism, the summer before High School. Having Asperger Syndrome and being plunged into the social sea that is High School, I was drowning, but there were teachers and friends that pulled me out and made me who I am today. It also delves into my past to see if I could in fact pinpoint the moments when I first learned if there was something different about me and it also focuses on the challenges and positive aspects of autism.

Here's to many more years with autism and many more adventures.

Another Fascination: Maps

Here is another link to one of my favorite websites the Smithsonian. They have some of the best information on history, sports, and science along with fun link like this. I love the way maps look and the Smithsonian has taken that to the next level by posting maps of the literary world by Andrew DeGraff from his recent book Plotted: A Literary Atlas . Its a fascinating book in which DeGraff plots out the literary classics like Huckleberry Fin and Robin and Crusoe using ingenious maps to follow the plot. Its a fun read if you have the time. Here's just a sampling of his work from one of my favorite books as a child Around the World in 80 Days
                                                                                       

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/explore-robinson-crusoes-island-and-other-literary-worlds-180957051/?utm_source=facebook.com&no-ist

Doodling

Recently I came across an article about how coloring can be an alternative to meditation. In fact its becoming such a trend that six of the best sellers on Amazon are coloring books for adults. Not only is coloring a good stress reliever, but I believe doodling also helps relieve stress as well. Its easier for me to doodle because sometimes I like to hold the crayons, colored pencil, or whatever medium I'm using at the time, too tight. What do you think about coloring books for adults? Here is a sample of one of their coloring Mandalas with the link below. Mandalas are: is a spiritual and ritual symbol in Indian religions, representing the universe. The basic form of most mandalas are a square with four gates containing a circle with a center point.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/coloring-benefits-meditation_55b7c9c1e4b0074ba5a6724f

A Wet, Yet beautiful Fall

Its been raining for two days now, off and one. I went to Front Range Community College and continued with my painting class. I am not the best, but I sure had fun with my jousting painting because it had a lot of elements to it. I don't know about you, but I love all the small details one can cram into a painting see if you can find Waldo its pretty easy :D

While painting may not be my forte, I do love the small details and have fun doing it. Painting comes with its challenges though, I can't hold a paint brush still to save my life, but thank goodness for rulers right if I need to have a straight line. After Painting 101 I returned outside to the gloomy rain falling in light drizzles. My favorite thing to do during a light rainstorm is go to Margret's Pond. Margret's pond is a small body of water undisturbed by the surrounding golf courses and homes of Legacy Ridge, its a beautiful place to walk. There's this tall tree that hangs over the trail with beautiful gold laurels of leaves falling down in light patterns on the ground. The rain makes the bark a deep ebony hue.

The trees were a crisp yellow and the smell of fall fell lightly with the gentle rain

 

My favorite though is when the dewdrops collect on the dead flowers and hang there like beaded jewels.

After an inch of rainfall at Margret's Pond its always fun to see if the waterfall is running, usually its just a gentle trickle, but today it was gushing down the rocks.

After Margret's Pond, the best part is hunting for the red trees, which lie in a small clusters along the roadway, they are some of my favorite fall colors.