Its been about a week since I started this journey into follicle conservationism. Seven days isn’t much, but I’ve already began to feel the weight of my decision. It’s unclear as to whether the quest has proven to be either positive or negative, but changes have manifested, nonetheless.

The first change is that the smell of pine is more apparent to me. Well that and flapjacks. I believe I may have awoken a lumberjack gene in the process of this challenge. This morning I found an iron-headed axe hanging above my bed. I honestly can’t remember if it was there before November started. It gives off an aura that I can only describe as not unlike Excalibur. It’s as if something might happen if I pull it off the wall l, like I’ll be crowned the king of trees. I’m afraid of such responsibilities right now, so I won’t touch it.

The second major change is that I’ve began craving moonlight. The sun and I have never seen eye to eye, but now it seems as though we are mortal enemies. The siren song of Luna becomes stronger with each passing day. I fear I may lose myself to her completely. There is an, almost, grizzly intent behind my longing for the night’s shine. The gruff in my voice depends as I call back to her.

The final change I’ve noticed may be the most significant yet. Men from everywhere have began coming to me for both handshakes and wisdom. I’ve never met any of them, but they seem to have learned of me through the tales of countless bards. I fear I may have become a legend in the making. I’ve given advice, monster-truck driving lessons, and “how-to” seminars on slaying dragons of countless breeds and levels. This beard has blessed me with phenomenal cosmic presence. I have a responsibility to use it. I’m the hero this world needs. I know that now.

I believe I shall welcome the power that my Almighty Chin continues to push through me. I will be sure to keep you abreast on the changes that occur over the next 7 days. Until then, remember our mantra. It shall guide you to the bearded shores and release you onto the mustached waters, my smooth-faced friends.

“May my beard grow above me, as I continue to grow beneath it.” — Jae Davis