What are the odds?

Last week, when I opened Instagram, the first Reel I saw was of a man dramatizing his #relatable addiction to Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups. This was funny because A) so true; and B) the night before, I had eaten my first Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cup since moving to Australia. Notably, I had not made the purchase, though I had gone into the Trader Joe’s where my friend bought them. I wondered if the Instagram algorithm had connected a long series of dots—location data and messages and credit card purchases—and then I wondered if I was getting too conspiratorial. There’s an uneasy thrill in looking for signs of data harvesting; we discuss potential pieces of evidence like we’re discussing particularly hot gossip. It makes us uneasy because we know we’re being manipulated, but it’s thrilling because looking for patterns is fun.

We tend to talk about finding patterns where there aren’t any as a bad thing—at best, foolishness; at worst, delusion. But I also think there’s something appealing about being slightly deluded. I’m thinking of the TikToks of people saying cutesy things like “delulu is the solulu.” I’m also thinking about the desire to create stories—not just in terms of writing novels but in terms of how we describe our lives to other people. We want the chaotic events of our lives to add up to a story. We do things “for the plot.” We want wedding toasts and Oscar speeches that tidily explain the magic of love or the power of perseverance. It might be more accurate to view our lives as random chaos, but it’s more satisfying to sort events into stories.

Personally, I’m a proponent of a little willful delusion. I don’t think I would be an author if I didn’t let myself underestimate the difficulty of publication circa age twelve. When you’re standing far away from a goal, it’s easy to look at the distance between you and the thing you want and decide the odds are too slim. That’s where delusion comes in. I always liked writing, but was it really destined to be my greatest passion? Probably not. But I convinced myself it was. And once you convince yourself that there’s some greater truth, some larger force propelling you forward, it’s a lot easier to keep going.

I think most of us have some experience deluding ourselves about our relationships with other people. How could you ever be entirely certain you’re going to love one person for the rest of your life? How could you be certain you’re not going to change into different people? Well, maybe you can’t, but it doesn’t stop people from falling in love and getting married and declaring their undying commitment to each other all the time. And what a great thing that is! How cute is it that we’re all so willing to be a little deluded?

I have this recurring dream where I’m catapulted back in time ten years, and I have to figure out who to enlist to help me with my predicament. And the thing is, I never seek out the people I was close to at the time; I seek out the people I’m close to now even if we hadn’t yet met back then. In the dream, I send them weird Facebook messages that say, “Hey, you don’t know me, but we are best friends in the future and I urgently need your help with my quest.” They always understand and are stoked to help because in my mind, my closest friendships were destined and preordained and would not be deterred by a dangerously unhinged Facebook message.

I like to believe that I’m tethered to my most important people by invisible strings. What are the odds we found each other? A hundred percent! I love looking for patterns: times I almost found my closest friends sooner, moments we were in the same place at the same time but didn’t know it, instances when it seems the universe intended for us to meet. There is something satisfying and reassuring about these patterns; it feels like they prove the friendships are not coincidences but part of a story with meaning and purpose. I know I’m making it up, but I also like making it up. Hope is just willful delusion. Isn’t that nice?

Currently reading: Speaking of odds—True Love and Other Impossible Odds by Christina Li. This was so much fun! So sweet and thoughtful! I love college-aged YA.

Non-urgent thought of the week: I would just love some recs if you consmed a great newsletter/podcast recently!

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