I still wish on spare eyelashes and when I catch the clock at 11:11, but I wish for the fortitude to accept what life throws at me instead of wishing for life to throw me really awesome things.
This is less because I no longer believe in the power of eyelashes and digital readouts and more because I’ve convinced myself that the gods of wishing on ambiguous everyday objects are pleased more by spiritually fulfilling, self-actualizing wishes than by, you know, buy me a pony and I wanna be a fairy princess.
Hence the following conversation I had with myself in my head on the train tonight:
“11:11, make a wish!”
“I wish… that I’ll get the once-in-a-lifetime dream job that I interviewed for last week!”
“NO. NO. STOP. SHUT UP BEFORE THE GODS OF WISHING ON AMBIGUOUS OBJECTS HEAR YOU BECAUSE THEY WANT YOU TO FIND YOUR DESTINY OF YOUR OWN FREE WILL.”
“Balls. Okay, I wish, um, for the fortitude to accept the fact that there is a zero percent chance that I’m gonna get that job, and maybe for a few margaritas to magically appear when I get the gentle yet impersonal email rejecting me.”
“You don’t really want that, though, do you?”
“No. No, you’re right; I would prefer a whiskey and ginger.”
“Oh, just suck it up and wish for the job. You know you want it.”
“NO. NO. I WANT INNER STRENGTH AND FORTITUDE.”
“And that job, though, right?”
“I mean… yeah.”
“Balls is right, kid.”