Fashionable Chance

Coincidences have always pushed me into choices I would not have otherwise made.

I wouldn’t have gone to college in Monterey. Wouldn’t have gone to Melbourne. I definitely wouldn’t be here in San Francisco at the moment, and almost certainly wouldn’t be blogging glotting this from behind the reception desk at Pacific Tradewinds. Unlike most people, I like the idea that life is determined by chance and fickle fate. From my shoulders a great burden is lifted. One has only to look for destiny, and then accept it.

So when three people told me, on three separate occasions in the past week, that I should grow my beard back…

Growing a Beard back, first thing in the morning
I Grow the Hair

I like the new manhair. Unlike fur, which only grows a certain length, hair will keep growing until one looks like a kung-fu monk or yogic master. The hair on a man’s face is unique in that it’s the only hair exclusive to a single sex. It doesn’t keep the male face warmer, or scare predators or show dominance—it’s only purpose seems to be signalling that “I am a mature human male.”

I am a mature Human Male.


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