Man, 2020. What a dumpster fire year, right? Everybody felt it. I’m a big-time Virgo, born right at the tail end, so I always kinda pay attention to the weekly predictions, but back then, I was too busy just trying to keep my head above water. We were all just reacting, not reflecting. But last month, my buddy asked me if I ever actually checked if those astrology folks got anything right about that messed up year. I laughed, but then I thought, why not? I keep meticulous records. That’s the Virgo in me, I guess. I had every single weekly prediction saved in an old email folder, and I had my damn diary for the whole year, locked up in a file cabinet. I decided I was going to actually cross-reference the nonsense. A proper retrospective audit.
The Data Gathering and Initial Setup
I pulled the trigger and started digging. This wasn’t a quick search on Google. I had to manually retrieve the archive. My system had been simple in 2020: I followed the main three sources I trusted—you know the ones, the big glossy magazine site, the slightly dramatic independent blogger, and the one that focused purely on finances. I pulled the data for all 52 weeks. It printed off to about twenty pages thick, just pure predictions. I needed something physical, something I could mark up. I went out and bought five colored highlighters—green for a perfect match, yellow for maybe, blue for financial stuff, and red for a total, undeniable miss.
Then I cracked open the diary. That was the real gold mine. That journal wasn’t just about feelings; I documented every important interaction, every meeting, every expense, and every major argument or crisis. I needed to synthesize two years of human data and cosmic guesswork.
I started with January. I’d take the first weekly prediction and scan my diary for that seven-day stretch. Did the prediction say, “Expect friction in personal relationships?” I’d check my notes. Did I fight with the landlord? Was I having problems with the kid’s school? If I found a direct mention of conflict, I highlighted it yellow. If it said, “You will face a professional challenge that leads to unexpected opportunity,” and I got laid off but immediately got a better contract, that was a huge green light, a Direct Hit.
This process took me three full weekends. It was excruciatingly slow. I had to read, compare, categorize, and then score every single entry. This was supposed to be a fun distraction, but it became a full-blown mission because I realized just how vague most of this stuff actually is.
The Terrible Vagueness and the Spooky Hits
Most of the time, the predictions were absolutely useless. Total noise. They use words like “a potential shift in your career sector” or “be mindful of interactions with close family members.” Those things happen literally every week! I had to define my criteria super strictly.
- Direct Hit (Green): Specificity of action and outcome matches. For example: “A sudden contact regarding an old investment pays off handsomely.” (And my old 401k had a massive spike that week).
- Vague Match (Yellow): General theme matches the reality, but the prediction was too broad. (Example: “Focus on health and wellness.” I took a long walk that week. Yellow.)
- Total Miss (Red): Prediction directly contradicted reality. (Example: “Expect unexpected financial stability.” I paid $500 for emergency plumbing.)
However, as I slogged through March and April, things got weird. The week of March 23rd, one prediction specifically mentioned something about a “sudden, forced isolation disrupting your travel plans and forcing deep personal reflection.” Now, I know everyone was locked down then, but that specific site had been posting that exact phrase for the two weeks leading up to the official lockdown. That felt like a Direct Hit. Creepy. I highlighted it bright green.
Another big one was in October. I clearly remember this because of the money. It warned against making any major contractual commitments around the full moon, warning of ‘unforeseen financial entanglement.’ Guess what? That week, I signed a side deal to sell some old computer gear to a stranger, and the buyer ghosted me immediately after I shipped it. Huge loss. The stars actually called that one out.
Why the Obsession with 2020?
You might be asking why I dedicated three solid weekends to this four-year-old rubbish. It’s the same reason I obsessively track my mileage or check old stock prices. When everything in your life feels chaotic and you can’t control the future, you try to control the past. I’ve been running on fumes lately. My oldest just left for college, and my youngest is having trouble settling into high school. I’m feeling that middle-age squeeze—the money worries, the overwhelming feeling that I should have made different choices a decade ago.
I felt totally adrift, like the universe was just throwing random junk at me. I needed to prove that there was a pattern, any pattern, that showed the world wasn’t totally random. I needed to prove that someone, or something—even the cosmos—had a better handle on the chaos than I did. It was about seeking validation in predictability where none existed in my actual life.
I finished the audit late one Sunday night, stacking the highlighters. So, the final count? Out of 52 weeks across three sources, that’s 156 separate predictions. I logged maybe 15 Vague Matches, meaning I could twist my experience to fit the prediction. But Direct Hits? Only five. Five specific, tangible events that lined up perfectly with what the cosmos was supposedly laying out for me. That’s barely 3% accuracy.
Logically, this was a massive waste of time. But those five hits? Those are the things that stick in your brain, aren’t they? They are the reason I still open up the weekly predictions page on Monday morning. I spent three full weekends digging through the past just to justify occasionally reading the future, and honestly, mission accomplished.
