I Needed Answers, So I Started Tracking Rita Ann
You see the title, right? Looking for accurate predictions? Man, I wouldn’t be dedicating three hours every Monday morning to this weird ritual if I didn’t need some sort of direction in life. We all chase stability, but sometimes you just gotta look at the stars when everything on the ground is crumbling. I decided to stop guessing and start tracking. Specifically, tracking Rita Ann’s weekly Virgo forecasts.
The practice itself isn’t rocket science. It’s just grunt work, really. What I initially set up was pretty basic:
- Finding the source (Which involved weeding through a ton of clickbait garbage).
- Developing a system to categorize the forecast (Was it about money, love, health, or just vague optimism?).
- Building a simple spreadsheet system (Nothing fancy, just Google Sheets) to log the prediction and assign a confidence level.
- Then, the most annoying part: The retrospective logging at the end of the week, marking whether the darn thing was spot-on, completely wrong, or just too vague to count.
You might ask why I picked Virgo, why Rita Ann, and why the obsessive need for quantifiable data on something that’s supposed to be fluffy spiritual nonsense. The short answer is, I had enough of real-world “facts” ruining my life, so I needed to see if the cosmic randomness was actually more reliable than corporate planning.
How My Side Hustle Failed and Forced Me to Look Up
The reason this whole project even exists goes back maybe two years. I was in a completely different gig. I thought I was smart. I thought I had the business acumen. I decided to ditch my stable, boring logistics job and start a custom painted sneaker business. Hand-painted shoes, unique designs, the whole nine yards.
I invested everything. Blew through the savings account setting up the workshop, buying the best paints, the airbrushes, hiring one kid who was supposed to manage the online store, you know, being an entrepreneur. We even got one decent write-up in a local fashion blog. Things were looking up for about six weeks. Then the bottom fell out.
The kid I hired? Turns out he was spending more time playing video games than answering customer emails. Orders backed up. The paint supplier started sending the wrong colors. Then, the absolute kicker: I got hit with a cease and desist because one of my “unique designs” was apparently too close to some massive global brand’s trademarked pattern. Didn’t even realize it was a thing. I thought I was being creative, but legally? I was sunk.
Within six months, I had liquidated the entire operation, sold off the remaining stock at a massive loss, and was staring at a pile of debt that was substantial enough to make my palms sweat every time the phone rang. I went from feeling like a visionary to feeling like an idiot who couldn’t even manage a simple paint job.
I was desperate for any kind of predictive system that wasn’t based on market trends or legal statutes. I remembered my Aunt Sally—bless her heart—who swore by her weekly horoscope. I used to laugh at her, but when you’re eating ramen noodles three times a day and hiding from creditors, suddenly looking at star signs doesn’t seem so crazy. It was a search for reliable intelligence in a world that had proven brutally chaotic.
The Detailed Logging and The Brutal Reality Check
So, I channeled all that entrepreneurial energy—which used to go into supply chain management—into this new, ridiculous pursuit of cosmic verification. I focused strictly on Virgo because that’s my sign and I needed personal confirmation. I decided to run this test for exactly one year, tracking every single prediction.
My method evolved from a basic log. I started using weighted scores. If Rita Ann said “expect a sudden windfall of money,” and I found a twenty dollar bill in an old jacket pocket, that was a partial hit (Score: 5/10). If she said “a deep romantic bond will form” and my cat just looked at me with less contempt than usual, that was a miss (Score: 1/10).
What I did was:
- Captured the text: Every Monday, I copied the entire forecast block.
- Parsed the categories: I broke it down into 3-5 distinct sub-predictions (e.g., career movement, interpersonal relations, financial outlook).
- Logged the weekly events: Throughout the week, I documented my own actual life events—the boring stuff, the unexpected calls, the bills that showed up, the minor arguments.
- Scored the accuracy: This was the tough, subjective part. Every Sunday night, I sat down and assigned a score to each sub-prediction based on the past seven days’ events. I even asked my partner sometimes, “Did that prediction about ‘new clarity in domestic matters’ actually happen, or did we just finally agree on what takeout to get?”
After six months of detailed, obsessive logging, what did I realize? The data proved absolutely nothing useful.
The predictions were often so generalized that they could apply to anyone having a mildly eventful Tuesday. The correlation between a specific prediction and a major life event was negligible. I spent hundreds of hours trying to make sense of the stars, only to prove mathematically what everyone already knew: it’s fun to read, but it’s not a business plan.
But here’s the thing: while the results were useless for prediction, the structured process of logging my own life events forced me to actually pay attention to the small good things that happened, not just the massive failures. The practice wasn’t about the stars; it was about systematically tracking my own existence. That’s the real realization I extracted from this utterly silly, highly structured practice.
