Awkward

I am awkward, especially when I’m sick and make all kinds of mistakes without even knowing it.  I’m trying not to beat myself up over it, but it still feels like it deserves its own post.  Awkward.  This word is awkwardness itself.  What is “awkward”?  I’m saying from a purely philosophical and psychological standpoint, not from a practical standpoint.  I want to know.  What defines it?  There are lots of studies on love, anger, depression, happiness, fear, sympathy.  But what about awkwardness?  Are there any studies on what gets defined as “awkward”, why we feel awkward, and where it comes from?  That would be, well, awkward.  Or cool.  Or both, I can’t decide.

What else?  I went to IKEA with R today.  The thing about IKEA is.  I love it– cheap prices, cute design, lingonberry and Swedish meatballs, a well of inspiration, an abundance of small things.  And I hate it– you must go through the marketplace to get to the checkout, no ifs, ands, or buts.  It guarantees that by the end of any visit there, I will want food.  And that is exactly what happened.  You tricksters, you.  I have to give it to those Swedes, they know how to make the most of a design, from the tiny one egg frying pan that I have come to respect, to their entire showroom and warehouse experience.  The claustrophobic won’t like it, but bravo, nonetheless.

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