Listen up, folks. I gotta tell you how I even ended up tracking my lousy savings based on some star sign nonsense. It wasn’t some spiritual awakening; it was pure desperation and a lot of free time I didn’t want. I had always laughed at people who relied on horoscopes for anything beyond a chuckle, but hey, when your back is against the wall, you start looking for answers in weird places.
I was in a real bad spot back in late 2022. I had this side gig, right? Selling stuff online, and it totally tanked. I mean, absolutely cratered. Lost more than I made that year. My regular job was fine, but losing that chunk of cash messed with my head. I was sitting there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where I went wrong. I had read all the finance books, followed all the gurus, and still ended up broke and annoyed. I needed an edge, or maybe just a distraction that looked like an edge.
One evening, I was scrolling through some garbage news feed, and saw one of those stupid ‘Your Financial Future Based on Your Zodiac!’ articles. Usually, I swipe past that crap, but I was so annoyed, I clicked it. Virgo. My sign. It talked about ‘prudence’ and ‘unexpected gains’ for the coming year. And then the idea just hit me like a ton of bricks: what if I actually dedicated a whole year—the entirety of 2023—to rigorously testing if the weekly financial Virgo forecast had any correlation whatsoever with my actual bank balance and investment decisions? It sounded stupid, but I needed a structured project to keep me from worrying.
The Scramble for Data and the Tracking Mess
I decided to treat the whole damn thing like a low-budget, messy science experiment. I told myself, for all of 2023, I would track the weekly Virgo financial forecasts and see if they lined up with my actual budget performance. I ripped a bunch of spreadsheets open. I needed reliable sources, which is hilarious because we are talking about horoscopes. I didn’t stick to just one; I grabbed three different weekly forecasts every Sunday night, focusing only on the sections that mentioned “money,” “career moves,” or “resources.” I ignored the love life stuff—that was depressing enough without the stars chiming in.
I started with Week 1 of 2023. I assigned a simple numeric value to the mood of the forecast:
- +2: Major positive indicator (e.g., ‘Windfall expected,’ ‘Investment pays off’).
- +1: Minor positive (e.g., ‘Good time for budgeting,’ ‘A stable week’).
- 0: Neutral/Vague (The typical filler, meaning nothing).
- -1: Minor caution (e.g., ‘Avoid big purchases,’ ‘Review debts’).
- -2: Major caution (e.g., ‘Sudden loss,’ ‘Don’t sign contracts’).
I averaged those scores every week across the three sources. It was messy. Sometimes one source said ‘buy big’ and the other said ‘run for the hills.’ I just averaged the bloody thing out and logged the final ‘V-Score’ for that week.
Next, I tracked my actual financial activity against that V-Score. This wasn’t just checking my bank account. I recorded every impulsive purchase, every time I decided to save an extra hundred bucks, and every small unexpected payment I got. If the V-Score was positive, I was supposed to be slightly more optimistic about spending or investing; if it was negative, I would clamp down hard. I forced myself to adhere to the score’s ‘mood’ for the first three months, just to see what happened. I kept pushing this tracking routine, week after week, 52 weeks straight.
The Big Reveal: What the Heck Happened
I pored over the results when December 2023 rolled around. The spreadsheets were a riot—half finance, half cryptic notes about ‘celestial stability.’ Did the stars magically guide me to riches? Nope. Did they give me some secret edge on the stock market? Absolutely not.
The first few months were chaotic. The ‘positive’ weeks (high V-Score) often aligned with me feeling slightly more confident, so I pulled the trigger on small investments that usually paid off just because the market was generally trending up anyway. But the ‘negative’ weeks sometimes lined up with great opportunities, and because the stars warned me, I cowered and missed out. I remember one week, the score was a definite -2—pure caution. So I held back on a stock I had researched for ages. It shot up 20% that week. I kicked myself hard, let me tell you.
But here’s the unexpected kicker, and this is the real secret I dragged out of this ridiculous effort. It wasn’t about prediction; it was about forcing damn discipline. When I was forced to assign a score and then forced to log my actions against that score, I became hyper-aware of my own spending habits. The Virgo horoscope, whether accurate or not, served as a mandatory weekly financial check-in. It was a simple, weird mechanism that I constructed to stop me from ignoring my budget. The times the forecasts were spot on? Pure coincidence, 9 times out of 10.
The practice itself—the constant tracking, the averaging, the adherence, the logging—that’s what pulled me out of the financial funk I was in. By the end of 2023, my net savings were up significantly, not because Jupiter was in my second house, but because I was manually recording every damn thing I did and thinking twice before I bought dumb stuff. The horoscope was just the weird excuse I used to trick myself into maintaining a weekly budget review.
So yeah, if you want your money forecast secret, here it is: Stop looking at the stars and start logging your spending. The stars just helped me build a ridiculous tracking system I wouldn’t have built otherwise. It was a messy way to learn a basic lesson, but I needed that bizarre process to truly sink the idea in.
