Being Clearly Undefined.

I’ve occasionally been asked whether I’m a team player, and I’ve never known whether I am or not. The problem is that while I quite like making a meaningful contribution to a team effort, I’m generally not the sort to seek activity in a team context. I need to do things in my own time and in my own way, which I suppose is why all my major passions in life (save the obvious one) have been solitary in nature.

And when I tried to find out whether I’m extrovert or introvert, the pointer on the pendulum remained dead centre and said I was neither one nor the other. The name of this undefined condition is ‘ambivert’ apparently, but you can’t go through life proclaiming ‘I’m an ambivert’, can you? You’d sound silly.

The thing is, I’ve been called odd, strange, weird, and even evil by one person (although she just didn’t have the wherewithal to understand why I was behaving the way I was – and neither did I at the time.) But they’re not really labels, are they? At least not the sort that are socially acceptable. It seems that labels just don’t stick to me. A few people have tried to pin one to my lapel, but it’s always fallen out more or less immediately.

And I’m not posting this by way of using my blog as a platform for further ego-projection, but because I imagine there must be other people out there who have the same problem and feel that they’re alone. Fear not, my friends. You are.

And I think I’ll use this as an excuse to post another of my favourite Sinéad Lohan songs: