The Messy Start: Seeing the Headline and Feeling Broke
Man, October 2021. What a time to be alive, or maybe just what a time to be totally financially stressed. I remember catching this headline while I was supposed to be doing actual work—Virgo monthly horoscope 2021 october money (Get ready for huge luck!). I’m a Virgo, obviously, and my bank account at that moment was basically giving me the finger. I was scrolling through some random New Age site, killing time, feeling the crushing weight of bills, and that title just slammed into me. I initially snorted, thinking, “Yeah, right, huge luck. The only huge luck I’ve had lately is finding a moldy piece of bread I could almost still eat.”
But here’s the thing about being desperate: you start believing the dumbest stuff. My situation wasn’t exactly great. I had just blown a chunk of savings fixing a leaky roof, and a small side hustle I was running had completely dried up. I was looking for any kind of sign, any directional nudge. So, I read the whole damn thing. It talked about favorable planetary transits, needing to “embrace unexpected connections,” and advised against “traditional, slow methods of accumulation.” Essentially, it told me to take a calculated, but weird, risk.
I didn’t have much to risk, which made the decision easier and dumber at the same time. I decided, right there, that I was going to treat this prediction like a project brief. I needed a strategy, even if the strategy was pure chaos driven by astrology.
The Haphazard Implementation: A Financial Hodgepodge
My first step was to gather every spare cent I could possibly find. I pulled cash from an old jar, I returned some unused tools for store credit, and I sold a couple of video games I hadn’t played in years. It was a pathetic little war chest, maybe $500 total, but I was ready to deploy it.
The horoscope had suggested something related to tech or communication—something about “bringing people together.” I interpreted this in about four different, contradictory ways. My action plan was a complete mess, like trying to fix a complex machine with only a hammer and some duct tape. I just threw stuff at the wall and hoped something stuck.
Here is the absolute disaster of my initial plan, based entirely on vague astrological advice:
- I dumped $150 into a totally obscure crypto coin focused on decentralized messaging. I bought it based purely on a tip I saw on Reddit that mentioned “community.” It felt like embracing that “unexpected connection.”
- I spent $75 on a bulk order of cheap, customizable keychains from a Chinese wholesaler. I had this ridiculous idea of selling them locally with custom QR codes linking to people’s social media pages. Total logistics nightmare.
- I invested $200 in three separate, low-ticket Udemy courses: one on graphic design, one on basic Python scripting, and one on drop-shipping fundamentals. I figured if the money failed, maybe the skills wouldn’t.
- The remaining money, I simply wasted on lotto tickets on the predicted “most opportune day,” October 23rd. Zero return.
It was a technical hodgepodge of financial efforts. My attention was split between trying to learn Python, tracking a volatile penny crypto, and fumbling with customs forms for $75 worth of keychains. I was monitoring the crypto price every hour. I stayed up late trying to design a decent logo for the keychain ‘business.’ I ignored the Python course almost immediately, deciding it was too slow.
The Crash and the Realization
The “huge luck” didn’t arrive with a fanfare. It arrived with a whimper and a headache. By the first week of November, the crypto coin had tanked—not vanished, but certainly lost 70% of its value. The keychains were still sitting in boxes in my living room. I had made exactly zero sales. I was down money, time, and sanity. I yelled at my computer screen. I cursed the horoscope site. I felt like an utter fool for actually believing the hype.
I was so fixed on the idea of a sudden, external monetary windfall that I missed the actual, internal pivot that was happening. I completely abandoned the keychains and the crypto, chalking it all up to a loss. But I still had those Udemy courses I had shelled out for.
Because I had spent time figuring out how to mock up the keychain designs, I had actually gotten surprisingly decent at the basic graphic design software. Not a pro, but I could make flyers and simple social media posts quickly. Because I had wrestled with the drop-shipping course, I understood the concepts of funnel optimization and basic e-commerce platform setup.
The true pivot came three weeks later. I was talking to an old college acquaintance who runs a marketing agency that deals mostly with small, local businesses. He lamented that his team spent too much time on “stupid little quick graphics” and managing simple social media calendars.
I casually mentioned, “Yeah, I learned how to do that quickly last month.”
He pushed me for details. I showed him the ridiculous, failed keychain mockups, explaining how I wasted time trying to set up that business. Instead of laughing, he paused. He said, “I need someone who can churn out this kind of stuff part-time, fast, without complaining.”
I literally walked into his office the next day and got hired as a freelance contractor to handle their low-level design requests and basic social media scheduling. It wasn’t the millions the horoscope promised, but it was reliable, recurring income—more than making up for the $500 I had lost in the mess.
The “huge luck” wasn’t winning the lottery; it was the necessity of having to build that chaotic financial hodgepodge that accidentally equipped me with the skills I needed for the stable gig. The luck was in the labor, the skills I picked up while trying to chase the quick buck. Sometimes, the universe just forces you to train for the job you need, even if it disguises the training as a failed investment scheme.
