Eats, shoots & leaves. I stole the title of a book.

Poker rules, for reference. Cred: Pokerrush via Google

The dealer had a stoic expression on his face as he handled the pack. Stoic, with a wash of calm - he seemed to have perfected this facial demeanour. Not too bad for a med, I'd say. He then began to shuffle the cards, knocking them down and straightening them over, while they appeared to be fluid with his sleight of hand. His face reflected the pride of a magician as he cut the pack, burned through it and lay five cards in front of us.
I had my two, for the fourth round that night. I saw my cards and they weren't so great - an eight of clubs and a ten of spades. I stuck to the minimum bet as I went in.
First card: Seven of hearts. I matched the minimum on the round, which was pretty high anyway.
Second card: Jack of spades. The stakes increased by four times. Although I was moderately excited, I was disheartened thinking about my odds. But I stuck on.
Third card: Jack of hearts. The stakes increased by four times of the previous. I folded my cards along with three other people.

Fourth card: Three of hearts. One guy went all in and the other guy, almost too reluctantly, matched. Everybody started guessing what the sequences could be. Was there a flush? Three of a kind?

The guy who went all in had a queen of hearts and a five of diamonds. He lost.
The other guy had a seven of clubs and a four of diamonds. He won.
The fifth card was a nine of diamonds.

We displayed our cards, talked about it for roughly 37 seconds and decided to move on to some classical rock, cold pizza and medical talk.  This provided ample opportunity for me to take off on a tangent and mull over the fact that I had the winning hand. I mentally scolded myself for being a coward and then at the universe for ruining my life. Okay, maybe that was a hyperbola and it was just a game, but sometimes you need a cue for cliche - I realized that life, like poker, isn't about the cards that get handed to you. But it's the way you play the game.

I didn't hang on long enough, and was too afraid to take a risk. The guy who won had pretty average cards, but hung on, albeit barely. The guy who went all in showed courage to an extent of intimidation, that made four people fold. It was a risk, and the odds could have been in his favour. But they weren't.
One can calculate and analyze, rely on probability and statistics, but what's meant to happen, will.

I read somewhere that when you have to make a choice, you need to list all the possibilities each choice could lead to. If you are happy with your end result, you pick that path. Think of it as DFS on a Binary Search Tree. Yes, I just named a data structure - it's an occupational hazard. Now take a look at the swag diagram. Literally.

Swag diagram

Assuming you want to eat pizza by yourself and you're a selfish prick, you know which path you need to take to get what you want. You could apply this to every decision you make and there will be nothing you won't expect. You will always have a Plan-B in case something goes wrong and now you can save the world.
Rejoice and say hurray!

No.
I bet it would be neat to have everything planned out, especially to assuage minds like my own, but a life meant to be lived is far from project management. It's meant for ebbs and flows, unreasonable intuitions and inevitable rejections,  sudden conversations and empty calories. It's meant for taking life by the horns with a smile on your face, even if it means declining that fat pay-package and a job you hate. Sometimes a surprise of the unknown could be unimaginably better than your grand plan of what's best. Sure, that is no fool-proof guarantee for success, but I'm sure it would be a life worth living and learning. And I think a lot of times, it's the tiniest unexpected things that make a difference. Like watching your grandma take care of your grandpa on your birthday.

Okay, maybe you should share that pizza with your room mate after-all. But don't take my word for it - I'm just a ninja who has everything figured out.