I have not always had a beard, but I have always been short. Growing up I was promised a growth spurt. They lied. I started getting facial hair when I was a freshman in high school. A doctor told me that the appearance of facial hair was a sign that I was about to stop growing. I did. I guess he was telling the truth.
I was seeing the aforesaid doctor because I fractured my pelvis while wrestling. It sounds like a big deal, but my pelvis fractured when I was standing up during practice. Nobody was touching me. There was no glory in it. It's a really poor tale, but it does illustrate my rotten luck. Not that I really believe in luck. Although sometimes I wonder if my failure to acknowledge her majesty is why Lady Luck is so wrathful to me.
For the last couple of years I have assiduously tried to take myself less seriously. I don't think it's working. Everything seems very pregnant with meaning. And even those things that are meaningless in themselves betray to me things about myself.
Know thyself. Never know too much. Ergo, never know thyself too much, right? One must still have chaos inside myself to give birth to a dancing star.
Which is why I hate things like this so much. I mean, you can never learn much about people based on exercises like this. At best you can learn who they want you to take them to be. Or who they need you to take them to be. And sometimes, if you listen to the silence, you can learn who they fear you will take them to be. But the whole "About Me" section is predicated upon presumptions of self-knowledge about which I am frankly skeptical.
I mean what the hell can you actually communicate in a space like this that gets at who you are?
Okay, how about this: I am not terse. I started speaking when I was nine months old. I never stopped.