On running from inertia

My career (silly word) feels like a stalled car on the hard shoulder of the entertainment superhighway. Did I really just write that sentence? The mind reels... However, its true. I moved to England with colourful, long-harboured dreams of big breaks and extravagant success and a never-ending deluge of exciting projects with thrilling people. Like Anthony Minghella. And then I ended up working in a shop for a year, selling cashmere to disdainful Saudi women. And obsessing about the laundry. But now that we've finally moved to London, and I'm a fully paid-up member of Equity and the Actors' Centre, I have to choose to give it my all or give up. Its now or...dare I complete the sentence? As my father the philosopher says, "Shit or get off the pot." Ah, Daddy; Alfred P. Doolittle eat your heart out. So I have no more excuses and I'm too damn stubborn to give up on my dreams of being a great film actress. Even writing it seems daunting. But its our greatest fears that offer us the greatest chance of fulfilment. I know this for sure because, two years ago, the concept of running for an hour would have brought me out in a rash. And yesterday I headed out into the Sunday sunshine and ran for four.