Tag: Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th and Other Superstitions

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I do not feel cursed on Friday the 13th. I like to joke about it, but I realize that counting all the negative happenings on Friday the 13th and declaring the day unlucky is just confirmation bias. When we see what we expect to see, that’s confirmation bias.

The problem with superstitions is, after the expectation of doom develops, then comes the self-fulfilling prophecy. In thinking something bad is going to happen, the bearer of the superstition may act in a way that creates the prophecy. Someone with a Friday the 13th superstition may be so distracted by fear that they cross the street without looking.

There are several other superstitions I don’t share. Broken mirrors? I pick the shards up. Spilled salt? I admit I throw salt over my left shoulder because I think doing so is funny, especially at a restaurant. Hat on the bed? Is that a thing? Walking under ladders? The only doom there is for the person on the ladder, so I don’t do that. Opening an umbrella in the house? I think moms invented that superstition to keep kids from opening umbrellas in the house.

Don’t think I’m without my superstitions: I have superstitions of my making. I take a different path to a place than from a place, because I believe that will improve my day. I take a long, luxurious bath with good-smelling bath products before major happenings in my life because I believe it will improve my chances with whatever is happening. When I see dragonflies, I believe something unexpected is going to happen (usually good).

My superstitions are just as driven by confirmation bias as the mirrors and the salt, except they’re positive. No doom to prepare for, only self-fulfilling prophecies of good. Tripping myself into good things, yes, please!

As I sit whistling, my black cat looks at me curiously. It’s going to be a good day.

Friday the 13th

 Friday the 13th. It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious.

Or maybe I am. I throw salt over my left shoulder when I spill it. I don’t walk under ladders — though there’s a good reason there; walking under them tends to upset them. 

I don’t open umbrellas in the house, mostly because my mother gently told me that open umbrellas in the house were bad luck. I instead go through an awkward dance of opening the umbrella while it’s sticking out the door and I’m still inside. 

I don’t break mirrors. Who does? They’re a silvery bitch of a mess to clean up. 

Black cats are welcome in my house. In fact, I have one. I sometimes consider her bad luck, especially when she accidently trips me. 

I whistle indoors, but very poorly, so I may only be summoning mediocre luck instead of bad. 

Truly, though, I don’t think any of this makes a difference on Friday the 13th. We are all victims of confirmation bias on this day, infusing the random occurrence as bad luck in solidarity with the millions of others who do the same. Strangely, I don’t hear people blaming a dire event on Friday the 13th

The superstition behind Friday the 13th, in my opinion, a mass celebration of the stupid little things that happen to us. And that, with a little superstition, I can get behind.