Tell Me You’re a 90’s Kid Without telling Me You’re a 90’s Kid

I’ve Thought About My 3 Genie Wishes- Have you?

The Easiest Way to Solve the Hardest Problems

Apparently these are oil lamps. You light the oil like a candle and it does, in fact, make light. Confused the heck out of me as a kid! Photo by Louis Hansel on Unsplash

I’ve been thinking about my three genie wishes ever since I was a child. Aladdin came out the year before I was born, so I grew up hearing and thinking about the magic of wishes. For those that aren’t aware or live under a rock, the theory is that if you find a magic lamp (apparently an oil lamp, but as a kid in the 90s with electricity this was very confusing) and rub it, then a Genie will come out and grant you three wishes. These are my first two:

1. $500,000 in my bank account no matter how much I spend.
2. To never ever have the compulsion to bite my fingernails or cuticle ever again, ever.

These two wishes never change, and I’ll get into them in a bit. But the third wish is trickier. Is it selfish to keep all three wishes for myself? What about world peace? Should I wish things for others? Can I gift my unused wish?

Also, Genies are tricky fuckers. All the stories warn you to choose your words carefully lest they manipulate your wish. What if my Genie’s vision of “world peace” is closer to Hitler’s definition than to mine?

$500,000 in pennies is still $500,000. Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash

It’s a cliché to wish for riches, I know. But here’s the thing: I live in capitalist America and money would solve most of my problems- though, not my chronic cuticle biting, hence Wish #2. I could wish to travel, but if I had money I would be able to travel. Money would solve the student and medical debt I can’t get ahead of. I wouldn’t be putting off getting my car fixed, crossing my fingers that it doesn’t explode. I could buy my wife a new kidney off the black market. I could move to Hawaii.

I am not the only one, not even close, who finds themselves thinking about “easy money.” I didn’t choose to live in a corrupt capitalist society, I was born into it and it does not suit me. I am so desperate for easy money that I have fallen for scams and failed a few side hustles.

My second wish is definitely more subjective, but imagine this — painful, bloody stumps at the end of all eight fingers and two thumbs. Skin tattered and torn. I could post a picture, but I don’t want to have to add a trigger warning for gore. I have been inflicting this on myself for as long as I can remember. I guess ever since I’ve had teeth with which to chew my cuticles. This goes beyond a bad habit and believe me; I have tried to break it. I’ve put super glue on my cuticles to protect them from my teeth. I’ve spent money on fancy manicures, which works until the manicure comes off. I’ve put bitter “No Bite” on my cuticles. I’ve worn gloves. I am frustrated and incapable of getting over this compulsion on my own, and I need a genie.

Like I said, I’ve been playing this game for most of my life. I’ve wished on stars and birthday candles. I’ve wished on dandelion seeds and clocks that read 11:11. I’ve tossed pennies into wishing wells.

As a kid I remember wishing that NSYNC or Backstreet Boys would come play a concert at my school.

I’ve wished to go to boarding school in times where I’ve felt smothered by siblings. On a similar note, I’ve wished for my own room more than once.

I’ve wished to be 125 lbs. No matter what or how much I ate. Side note, I haven’t seen 125 on a scale since I was growing and watched the number sail on by. Even at the height of disordered eating I could not get myself down to an arbitrary number that I decided was so important.

The thing about wishes is that they are, in theory, the easiest way to solve our hardest problem. The other thing about wishes is that they don’t come true.

Seriously, I didn’t get my own room until I was 18, and then I went and got married and now I still don’t have my own room! What a rip off!

But, it’s a fun game to play, so let’s talk about that third wish. I must admit, I am tempted to wish for world peace. My definition is different from Hitler’s, and looks something like humans living in harmony with nature and no more war.

My sister once folded 1,000 paper cranes just to make a wish. I don’t know what she wished for but I hope it came true. Photo by Ben Wilkins on Unsplash

Actually, I might just wish for the end of war. The end of humans killing humans. Isn’t there enough tragedy already, with cancer, accidents, and natural disasters?

I could also wish for an end to the commercial meat industry, but that seems like the kind of open ended wish a Genie would take advantage of.

I could be the opposite of peaceful and wish death on my enemies. I don’t have a lot of enemies, but I can think of a few people in politics that the world would be better off without.

I’m not a cruel person. I’m desperate. Thinking about the third wish brings to mind all of the ways the world is broken, all of the hardest problems that I would like to easily fix. I don’t think of just my own problems, either. I am haunted by the knowledge that in 2022 in America there were 646 mass shootings, and 51 school shootings. We live with a government that cares more about a kid’s gender and whether it aligns with what’s in their pants than if they will be safe in school. How fucked up is that? Could I fix that with my third wish?

Speaking of politics, we as humans have been studying the world we live in for thousands of years. And there are people right now, right this very moment, in seats of power, who do not believe in science. What. The Actual. Fuck. I might wish for the end of that kind of stupidity.

I can tell I’m going to keep thinking about my three wishes. When another hospital bill comes in, I will wish for easy money. When my fingers start to hurt and then bleed, I will wish to be able to stop chewing my cuticles. When my stepmom posts informational vegan articles on Facebook, I will wish for an end to the meat industry. And when children die, I will wish no one had ever invented the gun.

Do you ever try to write something funny and then dive deeper and realize you are using humor to cope with some fucked up systemic problems? That’s how this started! So, please tell me what you might wish for if you ever come across a magic lamp. Thanks for reading!

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