Man, sometimes you just trip over stuff you forgot you even did. You know how it goes. I was cleaning out my cloud storage last month, trying to make room for my kid’s ridiculous amount of gaming videos, and I stumbled on this massive PDF file. The name of it was totally cryptic: VIRGO_AUG2020_LIFE_SUMMARY_*.
I totally forgot about it. This thing was a full-blown, personalized astrological forecast I shelled out way too much money for back in 2020. You remember 2020, right? Everyone was losing their minds. I guess I figured if the real world was going sideways, maybe the cosmos had a better plan written down somewhere.
Anyway, seeing that file sitting there, three years later, made me think: Did any of that expensive cosmic rambling actually come true?
The Messy Start: Digging Up the Receipts
I wasn’t just going to skim the thing and call it a day. If I was going to critique this “Total Life Forecast Summary,” I had to treat it like a serious piece of data analysis. I immediately dragged the file over and opened it up. It was dense—like fifty pages of planetary placements, transits, and flowery language about “the shifting dynamics of your second house.”
My first move was to try and normalize the input. You can’t just check vague feelings. I needed solid data points. So, I fired up a simple spreadsheet. I pulled out every single major prediction the report made for the period between August 2020 and the following year. I just copied and pasted them right into Column A.
Then I had to define the categories. I broke the whole thing down into four key areas, because the report focused heavily on them:
- Financial Outlook (Any major changes to income or expenditure?)
- Professional Status (Job shifts, promotions, or unexpected challenges?)
- Relationship Dynamics (New people, old issues surfacing, significant decisions?)
- Health & Wellness (Specific energy levels or physical events?)
I mapped each prediction into one of these buckets. This took hours, mostly because the language was so damn vague. Is “an unexpected shift in communication leading to increased authority” a Professional Status prediction or a Relationship Dynamic prediction? I had to make an arbitrary call, but consistency was the key, so I just stuck to my gut.
The Hard Part: Validation and Cross-Referencing
Now came the heavy lifting—the actual practice of checking the claims against my real life. I had to retrieve my journals and calendar entries from that time period. Thank God for digital backups. I started going through 2020 month by month, trying to match the report’s claims to actual events I had logged.
I implemented a simple scoring system in the spreadsheet:
Hit (H): The prediction was clear and the event happened within the predicted timeframe (plus or minus 30 days, because planets move slow, right?).
Miss (M): Nothing remotely similar happened.
Maybe/Vague (V): Something happened, but the prediction was so general (“expect emotional processing”) it could apply to literally any Tuesday.
I remember one specific prediction that promised “a major, unexpected influx of resources in the mid-fall.” I scrutinized my bank records and found… nothing. Just the regular paycheck. Total miss.
But then there was the career section. The report detailed a period of major structural review in November/December, specifically mentioning a conflict with an existing partner leading to a necessary split. Back then, I remember reading it and thinking it was nonsense. But when I checked my calendar, that’s exactly when my company reorganized and I had a brutal, necessary fallout with a coworker who was dragging down our team. I had totally forgotten about that stress until I saw the calendar entry. That was a solid Hit.
The Relationship Dynamics section was mostly “Vague.” It talked about “deepening connections” and “revisiting old wounds.” Sure, I had arguments with my wife, but that happens every year. I couldn’t attribute standard human conflict to Jupiter transiting my 7th house.
The Summary and What I Actually Got Out of It
After I finally collated the entire year’s worth of data, I stepped back and looked at the scoreboard. It wasn’t the clear win or loss I expected. It was a complete mixed bag.
Here’s what the final tally looked like:
- Total Major Predictions Tracked: 28
- Solid Hits: 5 (Mostly career and house-related events)
- Clear Misses: 10 (Mostly money and romantic fluff)
- Vague/Maybe: 13 (The bulk of the report, unfortunately)
So, roughly 18% accurate if you count only the solid Hits. Not great odds if you’re betting on your future.
The real epiphany wasn’t about the astrology. It was the process of forcing myself to review that entire year in granular detail. That time in late 2020 felt like pure chaos when I was living it, but when I mapped the forecast against my calendar, I realized I had actually made some huge, constructive moves—moves the report happened to stumble upon, maybe by sheer statistical chance or because it was so personalized it hit the obvious psychological soft spots.
I concluded that the “Total Life Forecast Summary” wasn’t a prediction engine; it was an incredibly expensive, verbose journal prompt. It compelled me to look back and connect dots I hadn’t connected before. So while the planets didn’t give me any insider trading tips, the act of tracking them gave me a serious dose of self-reflection. I kept the spreadsheet. Maybe I’ll do this again in 2025 just to see if the cosmic dice roll any differently.
