Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!
I was too busy partying it up on my fortieth day smoke-free to spare even a moment to congratulate myself. Congratulations me. Forty days is certainly quite a long time; it seems more foreign to me than ever before. Not to mention, forty days sounds so much more impressive than five-and-a-half weeks and change. Even the ark finished its journey after forty. I haven't snagged a rock yet.
I happen to find the numeric value that runs along with my quitting to be quite enjoyable. I like numbers; they are so fun and concrete, although unfortunately misleading, from time to time. There is always a calculating method of some source in order to invoke these mysteriously commonplace entities. They do not exist on a continuum; they do not perpetually advance forward. Yesterday, I was a forty-day non-smoker, yet that does not necessitate a forty-first or a fiftieth; day forty can easily become day one as a smoker, depending on the given calculus.
My present calculus is thrilling because of its existence; it is mine. I create it, and I control it; it is because I am. There is no god here showering me with rain water to keep me afloat; no wife holding my hand; no broken fortune cookie reassuring me of my path; no authority figure guiding the ethics of my decisions. Just me. I make the rules. And I happen to love linear mathematics. Very simple. Every day, just add one. Wonder how far I can count without even thinking about it. What is it, anyway?
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