I design art and music as a way to communicate about life.

6 Fun Creative Apps for Adults

Very helpful. Thank you!

Julie Erin Designs

creative apps for adults neon mandala

All of the apps mentioned in this post are for Android, and can be found in the Google Play Store.

They are all recommended based on my personal experience and I am in no way affiliated with the app companies, nor am I getting any sort of compensation for mentioning their apps here.

All images below are created by me using the specified app, using my LG G3 mobile phone and ASUS Transformer tablet.

1. Magic Doodle

neon mandala doodle art magic app

Magic Doodle is a fun app where you choose a background color and then move your finger around on the screen and it mirrors your drawing to create unique and cool looking mandala-style artworks!

2. Colorfy

coloring book colorfy floral artwork

This is a beautiful coloring book app with tons of detailed line art to color for hours!  You can make in-app purchases to get even more designs but there are lots of free ones choose from.

3. SkillShare


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How music brought love..

Firstly it was the love of a tiny dog, then the love of music, then the love of a man.

Tired of the dating scene, I finally decided it was high time to get a dog. One jumped out at me from the proverbial glass window of the local pet shop. I know now that adopting is always better, but, well, I have absolutely no excuses to give. She was my dog. We just clicked straight away, and the rest is history.

Three months later, I decided to go to a songwriting night to perform my own original music. I nearly chickened out, I was so scared of sharing my songs with the public. At a tiny Thai cafe around the corner, I thought “I can’t do this!”  The toxic voice of my ex kept coming into my thoughts, drowning all else out. ‘They are just no good’ and ‘I don’t like them’ were his thoughts regarding my originals. If I wasn’t like Brittany Spears in looks and popularity, then my efforts just would not fly. If they didn’t sell, they didn’t count.

Stuff you.

And with that thought, I collected up my keyboard and off I headed up the hill in the direction of the songwriting night.

My hands trembled and my voice quavered as I got set up to perform my originals. Performing covers was easy. I had worked professionally performing covers. This was personal. These songs were personal. Did I really want to go airing my laundry in public.

Why the hell not?

And then I saw a friendly face in the crowd. I knew him from twelve years ago. We had met, briefly back then, and we had clicked.

I played my originals, and they were met with rapturous applause.

We got on like a house on fire. He loved my songs. We loved each others songs. We talked, and talked, and talked. He came out to my car at the end of my set, and helped me pack away my keyboard.

We met up again, and my little dog loved him. We became a little trio, a family.

And the rest, they say, is history. But not history as in dead romance. Ongoing, living, beautiful history.

And I wrote, recorded and made a music video of this original, about meeting my little dog and then my man. It is not a million-seller and I am not Brittany Spears, nor do I want to be, as I am a different species to her.




The Popularity Trap

Being popular. Something we all yearn for in school. Something some people have, and others do not. I started my early school experience in the country, then we moved to Sydney where I attended two more primary schools, two high schools and two TAFE colleges. We moved around a lot due to my father being a park ranger. Growing up in national parks was a wonderful experience where, as a family, we were tight, and my brothers and I were our own little gang. We were each others company because we lived in remote locations some of the time, places where other kids came and went, in and out of the surrounding rangers cottages. As a family, we were different! We didn’t really belong to the country, and we only sort of belonged to the city. We were a force unto ourselves. This brought with it some mixed blessings.

I was asked the same questions many times regarding disclosing my address. “Is that Skippy’s address?” “Don’t you live on a real street?” “How do people find you?” I grew tired of explaining the exact location of where I lived, so I followed my brothers lead, and told people I lived in the park. That was it. End of.

We spent the largest chunk of our growing up in a tiny cottage perched on a high cliff in Nielsen Park, suburb – Vaucluse. City – Sydney. We lived beside the most beautiful harbour in the world. This attracted many visitors to our house. It also attracted judgement and resentment. We were not rich, like our neighbors. We did not live in a mansion, and we certainly did not vote Liberal. At school, I got called a Communist because my parents were politically active. I laughed about it and told outrageous stories to my classmates. But inside, I was lonely, and ate lunch with the pigeons. I went through periods where I was really popular and had several friends. Then, all of a sudden, I was not. This left me wondering “What did I do wrong?” The word ‘Loser’ kept flashing through my nine year old brain.

My first high school experience was horrible. I got teased for being friends with a boy who had a disability. I was miserable, and wanted to run away. I started planning my getaway. My parents must have recognized this, because they did the right thing and pulled me out of this miserable place. I then went to an alternative school called Wawina, a sort of hippy place, which I loved. I was popular. But I didn’t realize it. There was an empty place inside myself that yearned for special friendships. I was well liked, loved even. But I had nobody I could invite home to see the trees, swim in the harbor with, share the ‘biggest backyard in the world’ with. Everyone just lived too far away.

Then I met a girl at Sydney TAFE who I had a really wonderful friendship with. It lasted 22 years. We lived the eighties together, her in her outrageous Madonna outfits, and me in my hippy finery. Then onto blokes, Art School, Uni, Teachers College. I had morphed from the hippy phase to the ’60’s obsessed mod phase. I looked fine on the outside, but the years between 1988 and 1992 were drowned in a haze of substance abuse, addiction, abuse and mental health issues. There were fun times, parties, endless invites. But the fun turned on me, and the empty hole inside myself grew into a yawning chasm, threatening to swallow me up whole and claim my life. And I was hanging around some really horrible people. Use. Abuse. Steal. Get abused. That’s how this phase ended up.

But that was all 22 years ago, and I have long since clawed my way out of it. But I cannot help but marvel at the lengths I went to to fill that hole inside myself that felt awkward and craved both popularity and uniqueness at the same time. I just wanted to be loved for being me. My family loved me, but I didn’t love me.

Overcoming terribly negative self talk has taken years, and is a work in progress. I am not the girl with 120 likes on Facebook. I probably never will be. (Well, who can say?) But, after years of rotten relationships with alcoholics, neurotics and shirtless-sleeveless types, I have found the most beautiful man, and the most beautiful dog in the world. (This followed on from my solemn declaration that I was through with dating shirtless, sleeveless types with shirtless, sleeveless type hang-ups. I would get a dog.)

My phone only rings with calls from telemarketers, and I mostly ignore it. I am not the girl with the gazillion friends. But I have family, my man, my dog, his family, an assortment of people on and offline who I like and who like me. And, in spite of a disability, I am a healthy specimen who’s mind and body are into life, not death.

What more can a woman wish for?


Media Land

Content Media, Online Media, Social Media and Multimedia. I am wading through vast swathes of information both on and offline. I have needed to learn new skills and digest new information since leaving my Graphic Design course. No matter how much I learn, I am still a beginner. And every day of learning brings with it more information and more learning. So how do I avail myself of learning opportunities, yet not allow myself to get swamped in a universe contained within one small computer screen? The sun is (sort of) shining outside, my dog needs walking and I require a second cup of coffee and a bite to eat. Balancing the inside and the outside worlds is a unique and necessary art. That’s why I am a Graphic Designer and Artist in my inside world, and a Dog Walker in my outside one.

While the  Design income and jobs are not yet rolling in, I have found a steely resolve inside myself that tells me to declare myself, no matter what. And always keep learning. So I am now venturing into the world of Word Press as a way to conquer that skill. And every day, I share my designs on Social Media, just so people know I am there. Sharing content daily has brought me some inquisitive people on Social Media, asking if I can illustrate, make an artwork for them, or learn Word Press. The nascent stirrings of something that has not yet become solid, but one day I hope it does. That’s me, for now. Check out  Steph Poleson Website

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