Sunday, February 3, 2013

My Life as a Toy

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a lovable plush toy representation of yourself?


Well, you're missing out.

My good friend Stacey from Searching for Wonderland gave me just such an opportunity. Ladies, gents, and crochet creatures, I give you Marisa Monshter, a cheerful citizen of Monshter Town.

Stacey, the almighty creater of Monshter Town, is a master with a crochet hook...and a paintbrush...and a Wacom...and a sewing machine...and rocks, paper, scissors, and all kinds of other things. She has got to be one of the most creative and talented people ever to live, and I'm all smug and smarmy about the fact that I've known her since high school. She even made a box, complete with the little tabs and insert thingies that used to hold your Care Bear toys in their boxes like war criminals.

This is seriously one of the coolest gifts EVER, and at an absolutely perfect time. She presented my new little friend to me when I was doing my best to keep an aging stiff upper lip on my thirtieth birthday last year.

Now I'm immortal, and with adorable little fuzzy horns and fantastic blue hair. I don't actually have horns or blue hair, but the little bit of punk streak in me wonders how the blue hair would look...
The text on the back is fantastic (as is her graphic design prowess).

"Marisa Monshter's favorite color is blue! She loves making new friends and she has a lot of hobbies (that's an understatement). Some of her favorite things to do are draw, write, and go horseback riding. Marisa loves music more than just about anything else in the whole world. She even plays the trumpet! Marisa's favorite food is waffles! (A shoutout to our writing group--hi, Laura!) Won't you be Marisa's friend?"

Yes. Won't you? She enjoys long walks on the beach and staying out of the dog's reach. She's currently reading the entire David Sedaris canon and hoping to upgrade her little pink and green iPod to an iPod touch with better battery life and Angry Birds.

Seriously, I thought I'd post about this today because it inspired me. I've been moping around my house all weekend and feeling sorry for myself because I can't get into a creative groove. That pesky writer's block I posted about last week is still wrestling with me, and it doesn't fight fair. I flopped myself down in a chair and decided to stare blankly at the mocking bookshelf full of its writings and publishings and awesomeness that I can never attain, and there was my little stuffed doppelganger staring happily at me.

It just kind of reminded me that there are a million ways that a person can be creative, and that maybe my desire to get into a writing "groove" is part of my problem. Maybe I'm so far into the groove that it has become a rut.

I hauled myself up from my chair and decided that I would find something else to flex my creative muscles for a while. Dear Husband Chris and I ended up putting on our photographer hats and harassing the animals by chasing them around and taking pictures of them.

We worked on a light box and took completely useless (but really cool!) pictures of seashells.

You know what? It kind of worked. I started feeling refreshed and energized, like I was charging my batteries instead of trying to draw on a dead one. Now I feel like I could sit down and get a little bit of writing done without beating myself up over it.

So, hurray for today's Surprise Muse, Marisa Monshter, and her fabulous creator, Stacey-friend.



Unknown said...

Love this post, Marissa. An early writing teacher recommended having a second creative joy that doesn't involve words. I've always done that - it really helps me.

Marisa said...

Ellen! Welcome to my little blogosphere! Your teacher was definitely right. I'm learning the hard way that I'm holding myself back by holding myself to such a tight regimen of writing only. I tend to forget that there are tons of other creative things that I like to do and that it is not a sin to want to work on those things instead of slavishly pushing that pen. The last thing I want is for writing to feel like prison, and sometimes I can feel those shackles just creeping up around my wrists...