Last week I found something that I need: a Jane Austen action figure. A JANE AUSTEN ACTION FIGURE. Don’t believe me? Told you.
I stumbled across her at the gift shop of the NYC public library and I could barely contain my excitement. In fact, I think my head might just explode right now thinking about it. Is that not one of the most amazing things you have heard? She comes complete with a novel and a miniature writing desk. Her “billowy” white gown may be made out of plastic, but she still manages to exude lovableness. And thus, I have decided not to grow up. Ever. If growing up means wanting to be serious, always talking about adult topics and being above yearning for a miniature statuette of one of my personal icons, then I think I will continue to function at the mental capacity of a seven year-old. Life would be so much simpler if we could all just give in to our childish sides once in awhile. Well, maybe not too childish as I have recently finished working with the adult toddlers of corporate America and I am still shaking from the memories. But a pinch of youthful innocence would definitely help a bit.
Although I can’t help but wonder, who am I kidding? I bet Ms. Austen is rolling in her grave as we speak while demanding, “Really? An action figure? Is that what my life’s work has amounted to?”
But I can’t quite help that my response is, Yep, an action figure.