The Tutor

A few weeks back, I was at the Royal Festival Hall with my theatre company. We were planned to perform just next door, at the Edric Theatre, that night and were having lunch before going in and doing our tech run.
It was a relaxed morning - we were ready, just doing some line runs to pass the time...  I was discussing with a friend, telling her how much I wished I could bump into one of our tutors from drama school - a tutor I loved and feared at the same time - to tell her about all the great things I'd been doing since I'd left Drama School. Yet, secretely, I was thinking "hmmmm..... probably not a good idea, I am not ready". I felt not ready, not busy enough, not confident enough...

And 30 minutes later, who do I bump into? That tutor. THAT tutor.

True, the Royal Festival Hall is a place where artists hang out, but still.... she is a very busy woman, always teaching or directing new shows, so the chances of us meeting at the Royal Festival Hall!
And as planned (by the universe), she told me she had only two minutes and ask me (demanded) I tell her what I'd been doing. Which I did, even if I thought I wasn't ready and wasn't doing enough.
True enough, she gave me the "you should be working more" speech, but she was the kick in the a.. I needed to start working more.

She vanished, then two days later, she sent me an email with a casting call - to which I applied, and I was asked to audition.

I didn't get the part. But it was one of my first group auditions, and there I realised that a lot of the 'competition' was not as good as I thought they were... So, one more point for the universe... Thank you universe...

The Book

It was January 2012. After another of a long series of sleepless nights, I decided that 2012 would be The Year I'd deal with my sleep problems. I'd face my life-long insomnia and would give myself a year to find peaceful, beautiful sleep. I wrote that in big in my three-goals list for 2012, between "Live a more creative life" and "Move back to london".

Not much happened, because in spite my short and sweet list I had no idea how to face the sleeplessness that had plagued my life since I was 8.

Then in March, I went to New York. It was a last minute holiday, not planned-ahead. The weather was gorgeously cold and sunny. We worked a lot then walked a lot in the streets of Brooklyn, from trendy brunch-place to cool cafe.

On sunny days, New-Yorkers have that funny lovely habit of putting books they don't want anymore on the stairs leading up to their place. Apparently it even got a name, but I don't remember what it is. There was a pile of books on one of the stairs, so I thought 'oh, I'll just go and have a look if any's good'. On top of the pile was The Book. It was old and used, but the title said "How to solve your sleeping problems"

It was a book for me.

So I opened it. Inside it, there was a letter. It said: "Dear Ann, here is the book you requested. xxx"

My name is Anne. It was a book for ME.