On Believing in Fate

Until You Don't Have To.

Remember the excitement and anxiety of that good ol' day when the details (land line and home address, to be exact) of your faceless, pre-determined (without technology, of course) college roommate(s) arrived in the mail within weeks of your first days away from home? Perhaps you rushed to the telephone, only to leave a message with the unknown voice on the receiving end, the first of many clues (father? brother? step-brother?), and then obsessively checked the counter for post-its in the afternoons that followed, searching for the letters that resembled the name-or nickname-of your future best friend/child'sgodparent/frenemy (only time would tell). When you finally did get in touch, you exchanged lists of dorm necessities (I'll bring the tv if you bring the blow dryer, since the college version of myself like totally blow dries her goldie-locked, unmanageable curls) and, in your mind, planned the details of your first year away together (the soggy Ramen, the hot twins across the hall, the clothes you would share). And when the year was over, you'd look back on the memories that did-or did not-happen and marvel at fate's tendencies to bring together the closest-or farthest-of companions, which would stay with you well into adulthood (even if only at heart). Today, however, fate's hand is limited, as technology has allowed us to manipulate the endless possibilities of chance in a world that has become unromantically predictable. Yet another strike against it. Enjoy!