I woke up this morning, Monday, and the first thing that clicked in my head was that I had to find that Frank Pilkington Pisces weekly reading. I don’t know why, but I have this weird, totally illogical reliance on his forecasts. It’s a habit. I fire up the old laptop and dive in.
The Great Digital Scavenger Hunt Starts
I simply typed in the usual few words, expecting the official site, or at least a clean repost, to pop right up. What a joke. The internet is just a swamp now. I clicked the first result, which had a big headline screaming about this week. I landed on a page that was clearly a content farm, just chunks of poorly translated text and about a dozen flashy ads that nearly froze my browser. I hit the back button so fast I practically broke the keyboard.
I tried the second link. This one was even worse. It took me through three separate pages, each one demanding I sign up for a “free trial” that I knew was just going to become a monthly charge. I refused to hand over my payment details for something I used to get free. So I bounced out of that one too.
The whole thing turned into a classic wild goose chase. I spent a good twenty minutes wrestling with this search. I saw the same garbage five times over. Sites stealing his words, sites repackaging last month’s reading as ‘THIS WEEK’S LATEST,’ and sites that just plain lied in the title. I changed my search phrase three times, added the exact date, tried quoting parts of the forecast I remembered from a while back, anything. It was a complete digital hodgepodge. It makes you realize just how messy the digital world has gotten—a massive tangle of low-effort junk just designed to suck up clicks. You’d think finding one specific, popular astrology column would be easy, but no. It’s designed to make you fail.
The Unexpected Memory That Surfaced
Why did I insist on Frank Pilkington? That’s the real core of this practice record. It harkens back to a time when I really, really needed a clear signal. This happened years ago. I was stuck in a job that was sucking the life right out of me. I was planning to quit, but I was scared to death about the finances. I had saved up enough for maybe three months, max.
One miserable Tuesday, right before I was going to submit my resignation, I read his Pisces weekly. It was an odd one. It said something about holding the line, weathering the storm, and that the biggest move would be to not move yet. It was just vague enough to be a coincidence, but I took it as a sign. I delayed my resignation by a week. And here is the kicker:
That next Monday, my entire department was restructured. My awful boss was abruptly moved to a different part of the company, effectively sidelines, and my job suddenly became bearable, even interesting. If I had quit that Tuesday, I would have missed out on a severance package and a much better working arrangement under the new temporary boss. I was saved by a silly reading I found on a barely-working site. I had listened to the digital noise, and it paid off.
The Realization That Shut Down The Hunt
That whole memory flooded back to me while I was battling the fourth garbage website this morning. The problem wasn’t finding Frank Pilkington; the problem was how much I was relying on the search and the ritual to give me permission to start my week right. I realized the frustration was pointing me back to the same old mistake: seeking external validation from a broken, messy system.
I stared at the screen, which was now filled with pop-ups for dating sites and crypto scams. I slammed the lid shut on the laptop. I decided against trying one more search variation. I stood up, made myself coffee, and just started my workday. The core lesson I pulled from this whole stupid practice is simple: Don’t spend twenty minutes wrestling with a broken internet just to find a piece of advice. The practice should be to trust your own gut and just start making your own good week. The search itself became the frustrating, necessary reminder. I will probably still try to find him next week, because old habits die hard, but I won’t spend more than two minutes on the hunt.
