Been thinking about beards.

I had a beard at the beginning of the week. They tend to happen whenever I travel. I got into the habit when I went on one of my more crazy trips, a voyage across the Trans-Siberian railroad. As there would not be much time to shave while on the tracks, I decided that I'd forgo the the 'You need to shave' look, and go straight to the beard. It worked out well, and I've pretty much kept up with the habit since.

I was just in Arizona for Christmas week, which is just about the right amount of time to grow a starter beard. By the beginning of this week, it was looking pretty good, only the stubbly-ouchie factor was still high. It would take some time before the beard would become soft, and long story short, it came off.

Beards have been in the news this week, with Conan and Letterman turning outdoorsy in support of the writers strike. With that comes the question that the non-bearded always seem to ask. Why? What does it mean?

It is a good question, one I pontificated upon this week in deciding if I was going to fully commit again to the full face of hair. The two biggest factors in getting rid of it were, one, work-related and two, a hope to keep my kiss quota up. I have said before that girls are the biggest reason that more men do not have beards, and I stick to that now. (My girlfriend, who happens to like bearded-Colin, thinks that beards are a way for men to hide. I just don't buy that.)

This beard article I read in the New Yorker, got me thinking that there may be something more to bearding. For me it is a celebration of freedom. Find me without a job, and most likely you fill find me with my beard on. I am missing my beard today, so perhaps I am missing my freedom that I had during vacation. It does not look like growing back my stubblies would bring back my freedom, but nevertheless the idea does have some appeal to me.

Well readers, if I were grow my beard again, what should be the meaning behind it?