My regular reader will know that most of my posts are somewhat jokey in nature. I thought I'd have a go at something a bit more personal - my dances with depression and anxiety.
I'd known I wasn't generally happy in life for a long time. I could see everybody else having fun and getting on with their lives. I knew that wasn't me - I didn't deserve it. I didn't have a problem, I just wasn't worthy of the happiness and contentment that everybody was having.
With apologies to all present ...
I've often wondered whether the tweeps I interact with are real people or some cunning Turing Test type bots. There was only one way to find out. So, dear reader, I went to my first ever tweet up. This is my story of it, other people's may differ!
As a middle aged man, I find the worls is different from when I were a lad. Sometimes for the worse - I still miss the Corona Man. Sometimes for the better - I can now publish this blog and billions of people can read it. Obviously I'll be lucky if only one does, and that includes me.
However, I accept that changes happens. And that change should be embraced whenever possible. But, in Ukip style (yikes!), there is one change with which I will not put up. Gastro pubs can fuck right off. Before I start on gastro pubs, let me tell you what a proper pub menu should be like.
We all change throughout our lives. There's a lot of pressure to conform to social norms. But, for me, sometimes these social norms do not allow me to express who I am. I'm going to use this post you share with you, my one & only reader, my deep dark secret. I'm going to come out and to be who I really am.
Well, gosh. This is hard to write. I fear it will cost me a lot of friends. My family may well even ostricize me.
I've been outed as a vegan. I am. But also very anti-vegan. Let me explain ...
In theory, it should be easy to define veganism - a person that uses no animal products in their life. But, like most things in life, it's not that simple. Vegans cover a spectrum: uber-light to uber-strict. So let's start with a taxonomy of vegans ...
I'm often asked where the moniker oxguin came from. Well, I was asked once. It's hard to explain. Actually, it's not - it's an alamagation of Oxford (where I live) and penguin (what I love. No - not in that way. Just stop and think about what you've done, and how wrong it is). So, a post about Oxford.
I love living in Oxford. To be more accurate, I love living in East Oxford, just off the Cowley Road. Despite my own prejudices, it's nowhere near as poncey as I though it would be. There are real & lovely people here - many of them aren't even white privileged men.
So I just had a week off work, which has allowed me time to ponder the deeper mysteries of life. The mystery that has taken up most of my time is this - if you only had one piece of cutlery, which one would you choose?
Before I start, I want to make it perfectly clear that this is my philosophical journey into the the ultimate meaning of objects in our lives - and beyond our lives into meaningfulness of the multiverse as we image that it exists.