Why I Stopped Chasing Jackpots and Started Dancing to My Own Rhythm

I used to think spinning slots was a strategy—something you could master if you just pushed hard enough. I’d sit at my screen late at night, eyes fixed on the next big win, convinced that luck was a skill. But here’s what no one told me: casinos don’t sell hope. They sell the illusion of control.

I grew up in Brooklyn where music didn’t wait for you—it demanded your body. My mother played gospel hymns on an old piano while she counted change; her hands never rushed. She taught me that joy isn’t found in jackpots—it’s found in the sway between beats.

The ‘big wheel’? It’s not a machine. It’s a carnival—drums pounding, lights flashing like samba under midnight skies in Rio. Each spin? A breath. Each bonus? A moment shared with strangers who laughed instead of cried.

I ran A/B tests on my own behavior for three years as an UX researcher at Spotify—not to optimize engagement—but to understand why we’re drawn to noise when we’re lonely.

RTP doesn’t fix sadness. Random Number Generation doesn’t promise safety—it offers space.

So now I don’t chase wins. I dance.

I turn the wheel slow—like drinking coconut water after heat—and let the music lead me home.