Evolution

Lately I’ve been trying to change myself up a little.

I think the Olivia I imagined I’d be in Canada, and the Olivia that I am haven’t quite aligned up yet. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done a lot of cool things since I’ve landed at Pearson Airport, but at the same time, there are some things I could brush up on. One major thing is my social prowess: living alone in a new city should be a catalyst for getting out there and meeting people and being super-genial and engaging, but for some reason I feel myself like a little hermit crab sometimes.

I didn’t really notice this until I had a couple of shifts with this girl who worked at The Cafe, who was also Scottish (Glasgow). When she was around, everyone seemed eager to talk to her and have a laugh, and when she wasn’t around, people would ask, “Where’s that Scottish girl?” (to which I would have to restrain myself from going, “but I’M also a Scottish girl!!!!”). She was lovely, and the perfect example of how to be entertaining and open and engaging — something I thought I was pretty good at, but obviously not good enough, 'cause no-one's asking where I go off to when I'm not at work (but how would I know???). There are still some people at work who I want to chat to and be my usual weird self in front of, but I can’t seem to manage anything more than a stoic “how are you?”, all business-like.

One person I had thought I'd like to talk to a bit more, amongst others, was a guy I only knew by the nickname I’d given him: Beautiful Pirate. One morning I was in-between coffee orders, and one of the kitchen staff came round to my barista station, and in a very soft-spoken voice, asked for a latte. He was gorgeous: he sort of looked like a Persian prince, with caramel skin and dark, almond eyes, laced with lashes. He had an immaculately groomed moustache and beard, and all up his arms, there were tattoos of things like pirate ships and magic eight balls. The kitchen uniform — with the white buttoned shirts, blue pillbox hats and rolled-up trouser cuffs — makes everyone look like they’re working on a ship deck. However the other day he came in with his pirate princess and ordered a latte over the counter. Within the context of his own clothes, I was instantly turned off: he looked like someone who read VICE magazine and listened to Avicii (GAG me with a SPOON!). Anyway, so that brief mind-thing is over. I now refer to him as my "ex-husband" (I'm not weird, I promise?).

So I am improving, and what I’m slowly realising is that it’s all about how good you make people feel when they’re around you — the way you make eye contact, how you can use their name in conversation, how to exude a warmth and a sense of light-heartedness that will draw them to you. I’m trying to adopt this, and I practice it at work every day now. I’m noticing that I’m gradually gathering more smiles aimed my way, slowly but surely. I want people to see me and go, “hey, I always enjoy talking to this one.”

Another important mental change I’m adopting is my return to the elimination of sugar from my diet. Some of you may remember that back in early 2013, I stopped eating all sugar-heavy foods (including most fruits) for a month. Most of my friends and family thought I was totally mad, and some frowned on the fact that I seemed to be cutting out food groups from my diet because of it — but since when was sugar a ‘food group’? Granted, that month was peppered with slight crises of energy, where I’d be frantically eating almonds and cashews, trying to regulate my system (I remember one particular afternoon when I was trying to curb my shakes by popping back nuts from a plastic bag during a seminar, with a hysterically wide-eyed expression, saying "I FEEL GREAT!!!!!"). This was mainly down to the fact that I hadn’t yet been diagnosed with Hypothyroidism, which makes your energy levels go crazy. I did notice, back then, that I felt a lot lighter, and my digestion had greatly improved. Perhaps the oddest thing was that, by the end of the month, I didn’t even feel like eating sugar.

I adopted some great eating habits from that month, and now I’m in a good position to try it again, except for a little longer this time — eight weeks, to be exact. I’m on thyroxin medication, I’m in a city which has an abundance of great food (hello, local farmers market!) and I’m in a house which has a great kitchen and a back garden that’s green with fresh, homegrown produce. I went out the other day and spent a good part of this week’s tips on getting some real food, picking up nuts and seeds in bulk, dropping past Walmart for basics, and hitting up the weekly farmers market that had me carrying a huge brown paper bag filled up with eggs, cheese, beetroots and arugula (which is what we call rocket salad leaves over here… it always just makes me think of that cartoon car horn noise: aroOOOOOOOOGAH).

Another part of my transformation into Who I Really Want To Be is the music thing, obviously. This is slowly becoming more of a thing as I played my first gig with a BAND MEMBER (who is also my flatmate, woo!) the other week. I loved this gig because Melissa and I actually practiced religiously together in our kitchen, writing down arrangements and going over and over and over harmonies. She managed to wrangle quite a few of her friends to turn up, too.

So here's a nice dump of all the goodness from my gig, including a couple of videos (YES! VIDEOS!!)...