You know, people look at a guy like me and see someone who just throws things together, but they don’t see the system behind the chaos. The weekly Virgo check, yeah, the one from Terry Nazon, it’s not just a casual read anymore. It’s part of the wiring now, and honestly, if I hadn’t totally screwed up that whole venture back in ’21, I probably wouldn’t even be bothering with this stuff.
I mean, I really messed up. That was the year I decided to put everything I had—cash, credit, even badgered my brother-in-law into an investment—into that automated social media trading bot thing. I thought I was a genius. Everyone was talking about passive income, and I just jumped in like an idiot. I didn’t consult anybody. Didn’t wait for the lunar cycle, didn’t check a damned thing. I just clicked ‘Confirm’ on that ridiculous service package and watched the money drain out faster than a leaky bucket.
I remember sitting there, staring at the screen, my entire retirement savings blinking zero, and thinking, “How the hell did I miss something so obvious?” That failure, that immediate, catastrophic loss, it didn’t just hurt my wallet, it messed with my head. It made me realize I needed some kind of guardrail. Any kind. So now, the day starts with this ritual. It’s a way of forcing myself to pause and think, even if the guidance is coming from the stars.
Waking Up and Initiating the System Check
My alarm went off, same as always, 6:30 AM. First thing I did was make the coffee—strong, black, no nonsense. Before I even touched my work laptop, I grabbed the tablet. I didn’t open the usual news feeds, nope. I keyed in the source. I’m not going to tell you exactly where I get it, but it’s the one that always pops up first for her weekly notes.
I scrolled past all the other signs. I focused straight on Virgo. I read the headline, the one that talked about reading the full forecast for today. I didn’t just skim the pull quotes; I made sure I ingested every single paragraph she wrote. I even read the love forecast, which is usually useless for a hermit like me, but it’s about the practice, right? It’s about being thorough so I don’t overlook some key advice that might save me from the next financial train wreck.
I jotted down three key points in my old, tattered notebook. No fancy app, just pen on paper. This helps make it real, physical. This is what the cosmos—or Terry, whatever—is telling me to watch out for today.
- Point One: There was some vague warning about “trusting your gut on paper agreements.”
- Point Two: A push to “re-examine an old creative project.”
- Point Three: A specific note saying “don’t let small annoyances derail your main focus.”
The Execution and The Day’s Detailed Reaction
The first point, the paper agreement one, that hit me square. I had an email from a new client, a preliminary contract they wanted me to sign digitally before end of day. Normally, I would have just scanned it for the fees and hit ‘Agree,’ but because of that warning, I didn’t. I put the coffee down, I opened the document, and I read every single clause. And guess what? Hidden deep in the indemnification section was something I totally missed—a standard clause, sure, but one that shifted a ridiculous amount of liability onto me if their product failed in a certain way. I sent a polite but firm reply asking them to strike that specific sentence. A small thing, but my failure reflex kicked in and I caught it. If I hadn’t read the forecast, I would have signed it blindly, like I did with that stupid trading bot.
Then came Point Two. I’d been stalling on cleaning up my blog’s archive. It felt like boring, administrative work. But she said “re-examine an old creative project,” and the blog is the oldest thing I’ve got. I dedicated the lunch hour, not to eating, but to opening that messy database. I found three posts that were 90% finished, just sitting there gathering dust. I polished them up, added some quick tags, and scheduled them to publish next week. Instant productivity win, all because some astrologer told me to stop staring out the window.
The last point, about small annoyances, that was the hardest to handle. The internet service went out around 3 PM. Dead. No signal. The old me would have blown a fuse, thrown the router, and spent an hour yelling at the phone company. The post-disaster me, the one who follows the weekly mandate, remembered the warning. I took a deep breath. I grabbed that notebook again and I read the phrase out loud. “Don’t let small annoyances derail your main focus.”
I didn’t fight the internet. I walked away from the desk, grabbed my physical, paper book of client notes, and spent the hour making phone calls on my cell instead. Things that needed to be done but didn’t require high-speed fiber. I completely circumvented the issue by redirecting my energy, turning a potential disaster-of-a-day into a productive administrative afternoon.
The Tally and The Takeaway
I finished the day feeling… steady. That’s the key word: steady. Not rich, not famous, but steady. I look back on that ’21 failure, and it was pure impulsive energy, like a runaway train. Now, this weekly practice, even if you think it’s all just psychological conditioning, it’s my braking system.
I closed the laptop tonight feeling that I didn’t accidentally sign away my rights, and I used a frustrating interruption to be productive instead of destructive. I don’t know if Terry Nazon is actually reading the stars or just writing good advice, but the act of treating it like gospel forces me to be disciplined. I copied the main takeaways into my end-of-day summary. The whole process, from the first click to the final review, it took maybe ten minutes of my morning, but it entirely restructured the whole nine hours that followed. It’s not about believing in magic; it’s about forcing structure onto a messy life so I don’t repeat the mistakes I made when I thought I was too smart to need a second opinion. I’m going to keep doing this until I stop making money, which honestly, hasn’t happened yet since I started.
