So back in 2016 I got this wild hair to track Virgo horoscopes every single day. Wanted to see if those “best days for success” predictions actually meant squat. Grabbed my cheap notebook and a leaky red pen – that thing bled everywhere like a horror movie prop – and kicked things off January 1st.
The Setup Was Stupid Simple
First thing every dang morning, I’d fire up my dinosaur laptop. Like literally waited 10 minutes just for the dial-up sounding screech and the ancient browser to load. Googled “Virgo daily horoscope” and scribbled down whatever fluffy nonsense popped up. Stuff like:
- “Mercury smiles upon you! Seal deals today!” (Meanwhile I’m just debating microwave burritos for lunch)
- “Financial gains shine bright!” (My wallet contained exactly $3 and a sad loyalty card)
- “Romantic opportunities blossom!” (Yeah, the cat climbed on my lap aggressively that evening)
The Tracking Slog
Did this religiously. Every. Single. Day. Got weird looks at the coffee shop when I’d grumble and stab my notebook with the red pen when another “excellent day for organization!” prediction rolled in while my desk looked like a tornado hit it. Marked calendars, underlined dramatic phrases, spilled coffee all over March. By June the notebook smelled like old coffee grounds and desperation.
The Supposed “Key Moments”
Whenever a day was hyped up as a BEST DAY FOR SUCCESS!! in all caps magic, I’d go extra. Wear my least wrinkled shirt. Attempt small talk with neighbors (disaster). Apply for jobs slightly above my pay grade (instant rejections). Once even tried meditating before a grocery run – ended up buying weirdly expensive cheese I couldn’t afford because the “celestial alignment favored indulgence.”
Results were… predictable. None of these supposedly epic horoscope days ever matched up with actual events in my painfully average life. Got passed over for promotion on a “career peak” day. My laptop spectacularly died during a “perfect day for communication.” That expensive cheese? It got moldy.
Why I Kept Going (Hint: Stubbornness)
Partly boredom, partly a weird fascination with the sheer audacity of vague predictions. Mostly because I’d already wasted January through September and sunk cost fallacy is a hell of a drug. The horoscopes were like a broken carnival fortune teller – relentlessly optimistic, completely detached from the soggy newspaper reality.
The “Aha” Moment (More Like a “Duh” Moment)
Mid-December, flipping through the coffee-stained, red-ink-smeared nightmare of a notebook, it hit me. Hard. Every single day was hyped for something. Success! Love! Money! Organization! Like a broken slot machine vomiting non-specific feel-good cherries constantly. The so-called “key moments”? Utterly random noise. Zero predictive power. Zero connection to actual events. Just words thrown at a wall hoping something stuck. It was all one giant horoscope-shaped placebo effect. Felt like I’d spent a year reading the cereal box horoscope but somehow took it way too seriously. Total nonsense dressed up like cosmic wisdom. $10 for that notebook, man. Still stings.
