So my handle, 'tabula rasa' was supposedly chosen coz I had the notion that that's what I was once; as a lil bebeh. And growing up, playing the role of the Painter, the Paint and the Canvas, I would gradually fill in the white empty space with colour and shape and design.
Only problem is, no one taught me how to draw.
So I spent years filling the canvas with clumsy brush strokes and shaky lines, and badly mixed colours that usually ended up shades of mud. When I stood back to admire it, I didn't really like what I was looking at. Thankfully, the space I had used up until that point was just a corner.
I started a different corner, with different paints and different brushes, using what I had learned to make something prettier. And It sort of worked, but that first muddy corner was still there. So I kept painting the Pretty colours until I ended up painting all the way to the Mud. I started contemplating painting over it. But when the pretty colours met the Mud, the Mud started to make sense. And the Pretty colours became Beautiful.
I still don't like looking at the Mud, but at least I understand it. I want it there. Because I forget sometimes.
Catch me on the flip side.