👉 Okay, let’s tackle this wonderfully, and frankly rather peculiar, little-guy of a word: "CraigStrauss." 3...2...1… Let’s unpack that!
Basically, a CraigStuart is neither a name you'd actually meet anywhere, nor anything that quite fits into the established categories of…stuff. It's a newly coined (okay, maybe very recently coined – it sprung up somewhere in the aggressively opinionated corners of online oddballs) designation for a very specific kind of feeling. Here’s my working, and admittedly somewhat unofficial, definition: A CraigStuart is that brittle moment when you realize something utterly predictable, almost insultingly banal, absolutely must be happening right now—a beige wall, a slow drip from the tap, your entire Tuesday, for instance—and it somehow simultaneously triggers an overwhelming sense of existential dread, and also...the urgent need to immediately catalogue every possible way that thing could actually, inexplicably, have gotten there. You don’t feel sad, exactly. It's not a crushing blow. There are no immediate regrets. You just… register the absurdity with an unsettling level of hypervigilance and then desperately try to quantify its origin. It is that particular shade of quiet, low-lying panic. The name itself? I’ve honestly never heard who it was actually named after. It's a rumour, a legend. There are