Lately, I have noticed how often people wish each other good luck, and though my Irish ancestors will surely do somersaults in their graves because of what I am about to blasphemously declare, I have decided there is no such thing as luck. It could be that my French side dominates, but I think my skepticism regarding the existence of luck can be explained by my belief in human capability.

I think luck was created by a man who so lacked confidence in his own charms and abilities that he had to devise a hypothetical concept with which he could explain his fortune or his failure. What the man needed – what everyone needs – is faith and hope, not luck. Belief in good luck is a way of robbing ourselves of our credibility, and belief in bad luck gives us an excuse for our own disappointments. Luck is a superstition, and luck – good or bad – gets us nowhere that we cannot get on our own.

There is such a thing as being in the right place at the right time, but it is not luck that puts us there. The choices we make bring us there, and our gumption gets us where we want to go. Wherever we find ourselves, whether barefoot in luscious white sands or wearing wing tips on Wall Street, we are there because we are not at home wearing our slippers. People who appear to have it all are not lucky; they are ambitious, bold and intelligently audacious. People work hard to get where they are. Our goals are what we make them, and with time, effort, sweat and sleepless nights, we become what realizing our goals makes us. We are the cause of what we achieve. If we do not give perseverance and labor of life the credit they deserve, then we only devalue ourselves into thinking we are not working as hard as we actually are, and heads-up pennies, tossed salt, unwashed socks, little charms and rabbits’ feet are awarded the glory of bringing the good that befalls us. We merit the glory, but we also deserve the blame.

Take it from a girl who has broken three mirrors in her day (not by simply looking into them, thank you): bad luck does not consume me as the myth declares it must. There is no such thing as bad luck. My tremendous trip walking up the stairs of Connelly the other morning that left me drenched in scalding coffee and looking like I had attempted to climb the stairs doing the worm was not at all related to luck. I tripped because flip flops are stupid shoes and boys walking down the stairs are attractive. I cannot blame my clumsiness and incessantly poor psychology test scores on three broken mirrors, saying that I was too busy bent down picking up the pieces of broken glass to notice. I should have paid more attention to where I was going or studied a little harder.

Please do not call me a hypocrite if you hear me say “good luck.” It is a habit I am newly trying to break because I have come to the conclusion that with a little faith and a bit of hope, there is no need for the extra cushion of superstitions and excuses. Pat yourself on the back when you ace those finals, or reevaluate your study habits if you do not. Take some credit for yourself, and do not let luck get all the glory.

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Georgie Hunt is a sophomore English major from Pomfret, Conn. She can be reached at [email protected].