I'm at this restaurant and the friend who I'm eating with gets up to go to the bathroom. At a nearby table, a woman is eyeing me, and I know she's just waiting for the right moment to swoop in for the kill. This happens all the time. People feel a certain level of comfort with you when you're in their living room; they feel you're approachable. And the truth is I like to feel that way. When a kid comes up to you at a restaurant with a beautiful sketch he's just made of you and says he just wants you to have it, it's a real tearjerker. And I'm a leaker. But as this woman's heading over, I can tell she's had a few.

"I don't understand your life," she says.

"Neither do I," I laugh.

"What's the big deal?"

"Beats me."

"Look at you. You're normal. You're a bunch of nuthin', aren't you?"

I'm like, "What did you think? That I'm something? I never claimed to be something. I just do my job."

Her face is crinkling up like a kid who's trying to figure out a puzzle and getting more and more frustrated because she can't. Just then, my friend returns. He gives the woman the ol' laser eye and she leaves. We sort of joke about it. "Well, I guess we'll go back to our nuthin' meal." But tell me: What was I supposed to say to that woman? "Sit down and I'll try to figure it out with you"?

My dad had this laugh that made you want to laugh. Still does. Same with my mom. When one would start, the other would follow. My mom's face would get red and her eyes would start watering and her vocal cords would close up, and it would be so funny that you'd be swept up in it and then you couldn't stop. There's nothing better than contagious laughter. It's the most peaceful feeling in the world.

My best times as a kid came right after my dad [actor John Aniston] got a job on a soap opera and we moved to New York. I can remember this one party we had: Maybe fifteen of my parents' friends were over, Scotch in their glasses, or sherry. I'm not sure if I belly danced for everyone that night, but I used to cut a real mean one for my Greek relatives. I used to sing, too -- in the car, in front of the mirror, anywhere. I was about seven and absolutely fearless. I remember playing charades with the grown-ups that night, and all the laughter. Then it was time for me to go to bed, but you could never put me down when there was a good time to be had. Again and again I tried to sneak out of my bedroom toward the happy sounds, but they kept making me go back -- until I was exhausted and fell asleep.

As the years passed, tension came between my mom and dad, and I'd do funny things to try to bring back the laughter. It's hard to recall now what those things were. Maybe I've blocked them out. I guess I've learned to make a living doing what I did to try to heal myself as a kid.

When I was about nine, I came home from a friend's party and my dad wasn't there. Divorce happens in a lot of families, and I don't want to break out the violins. But that was that.

I was enrolled at the Rudolf Steiner School, which recommends that children don't watch TV. I'd sneak it all the time, of course. You become obsessed with anything your parents tell you not to do. Plus, Dad had left. How could I connect with him? He was on the television!

One day, my dad got me on Search for Tomorrow as an extra. I must've been thirteen. I can still see this little yellow ice-skating dress that I was psyched to be in that morning. At that age, it was thrilling to just sit in the makeup chair.

In the middle of the scene, someone came over and asked me to swap places with another girl. It was very quick, and I didn't think anything of it. On the way home, Dad mentioned how I wouldn't have been picked up by the camera if our places hadn't been switched. I felt terrible, absolutely mortified and humiliated that the poor girl got bumped because of me, the daughter of the soap star. I still remember walking down Broadway in silence after he told me. I didn't have that kind of ambition. You know how there are some people who burn with this feeling of "I'm going to make it"? I never had that.

Yeah, I want to prove that I can do it. But I'm ashamed to want it. It's a paradox -- which I guess I am at times. Maybe that's why I love Friends. It's an ensemble. Even the recent Emmy nomination -- it's not about me. It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for those other five people. That nomination is theirs, too, whether they like it or not.

But there was another thing I learned that day as an extra. In order for me to get what I'd wanted, something was compromised. What you want always comes with a price.

When I was in school, I think there was a Teachers Who Hate Jennifer Aniston Anonymous group, and I'll bet Mr. Piening never missed a meeting. There were these two palm trees in his English class in junior high. I don't remember exactly what I did, but one day Mr. Piening got so mad at me, he shouted in his German accent: "Jennifer! I want to tie a palm tree to each of your feet and throw you out the window!" When I got in trouble, my mom and dad would have to meet at the principal's office. There was that little manipulation for a while. But it didn't work out. It's hard to impress your dad when you're in the principal's office for being stupid.

It was the school part of high school that I really had a problem with. Otherwise there were some great times. At one point, my hair was shaved about an inch above the ear. I had the short hair and the big black outfits and the black liquid eyeliner that made me look like a vampire, with all sorts of pins sticking out of my body parts. I actually invented an excuse in high school so that I didn't have to sing in a play. I doodled the answers to my SATs. I'd go a, a, b, a. Let's see, haven't had a c in a while...

When my high school threatened to kick me out, I had to focus and get the schoolwork done. Only time I ever got A's.

One of the first jobs I was pretty psyched about was at the Public Theater. This was off-Broadway. It was that time of your life when you don't know any better to know that you're acting in the worst play of your life. Anyway, there is this scene where I sit up, look at the audience, and say this one line, and it always got a laugh. One night as I'm doing it, I realize that I'm staring straight into this huge, gaping cavern that is the mouth of Al Pacino. He's sitting in the audience next to Diane Keaton -- and he's really laughing. I couldn't believe it. I made Al Pacino laugh. It was one of the greatest moments I'd ever had. A moment like that can carry you for a year or two.

I'd done about seven hundred failed shows before Friends, and there was no reason to believe that Friends would be any different. Right before it aired, the director, Jimmy Burrows -- or Papa, as I call him -- flew the six of us to Las Vegas. He took us out to dinner and said, "You don't know what you're about to embark on. You better take care of each other." We had no idea what he was talking about. Then he gave us each $500 and said, "Enjoy it. This is the last time you'll be able to walk through a casino without being bothered."

Papa is one psychic Jew. That first year, we shot to number one in summer reruns. People came over to me at a drugstore one day and said, "We've been following you for blocks and just wanted to know if it was you, and could we have your autograph?" I'm standing there with toilet paper under one arm and tampons under another and I say, "Sure."

You know, I can remember waking up at five in the morning when I was a teenager to go to a record signing by Duran Duran. My girlfriends and I had every one of their albums, including those rare albums from Europe with two songs that have never been heard. We had every video. Videos of the making of the videos. Anyway, I got up at the crack of dawn and went with a red rose to the video store where they were doing the signing. There was already a line around the block. I waited all day with that red rose. Finally, I work my way to fifth on line. All of a sudden, they lock the doors and everybody in line goes crazy. And I'm standing there with this bent red rose from battling all these animals. Of course I was bummed. But looking back, I wonder: What did I want? What was I expecting? I don't understand it even now. I know that the real person isn't worthy of the adoration of innocent girls. And yet, those girls are allowed to have that, aren't they? I've been on both sides now, but that doesn't make it any easier to understand.

Then it was success at the speed of a stealth bomber. I'd try to go out on a date and there would be video cameras waiting. And before I even knew if there would be a second date, I'd read that I was engaged to the guy. That guy wasn't calling back! Say goodbye to him!

The six of us at Friends would be saying to each other: "You all right? You okay? Jeez! This is intense!"

Then comes the inevitable backlash. I guess a group of young actors getting a lot of money is going to piss some people off. Now some of the media's saying we're spoiled brats. But it was more than that. "Cast members of Friends trying to act in movies? Hey, keep your day job!" And so when it comes time to step out and try something different, to challenge yourself, you can't help but feel this fear. It's like you're not supposed to jeopardize your success by trying anything else. The compromise starts getting the best of you. Something that you loved from the time you were a kid starts to get lost.

Nine years have passed, and the six of us did take care of each other. No matter what problem any of us had, there was always Lisa Kudrow's laugh. She has one of the all-time greats, like a roller coaster going up -- tick, tick, tick -- before the big drop. There she goes! Then she can't speak. She cries. And we all lose it and can't do any shooting for two hours. What's that saying? Friends are the family we choose.

The dark side never overpowers the light side. But sometimes it feels like there's no sanctuary. Lord knows, I wish I had a different situation with my mom. You know something, lots of daughters have difficult relationships with their mothers. Only when you're under a microscope, it gets played out in public like it's some kind of court trial. You walk out of your therapist's office -- he works out of his house in a quiet neighborhood -- and there are four vans with lenses popping out. They say you're an actor and it comes with the territory. But can somebody please tell me when I signed up for that? Whether you're a ditchdigger or you're on a movie screen, shouldn't you have the right to sunbathe without worrying that some Peeping Tom is going to scale the wall to your backyard and take pictures of you? I'll gladly go by the rules if somebody would just tell me what they are.

Hey, I subscribed to Teen Beat when I was a kid. I'll admit it. Out loud. I was once the girl who wanted to know everything about Shaun Cassidy. I know people want to know about me and Brad. But I don't want to go into the details of our marriage, because it's best not to. That's what helps keep it normal. Besides, there's enough false information out there to last you a lifetime. But seeing there's a theme here, I will say one thing. I'll tell you about Brad's laugh. I don't know how to explain it except it sounds like a twelve-year-old boy who just threw a water balloon down on somebody. Just the other night, he was watching the Robin Williams HBO special while I was sending out e-mails in another room, and out burst that great mischievous laugh. I just looked up and giggled.

When I got the script to this movie, The Good Girl, I read it in an hour. The writer, Mike White, has an ability to create characters that are so creepy and dysfunctional and human, with this duality that makes people feel empathy for them at the same time. My first thought was: Was this sent to the right person? I called my agent. "Are they sure? Let's say yes before they realize they've sent it to the wrong person!"

On the first day of shooting, we started in the middle of the movie. Right at the center of my character's arc, where she's losing her mind and she's got to get rid of her illicit lover and she doesn't know what to do, but she's got to get rid of him, so she buys these blackberries. I don't want to give away too much. But I had to do this really tense scene with the blackberries on the very first day, and this fear welled up in me, and next thing I knew I'm asking Miguel Arteta, the director, if maybe we could move the location and start with another scene. I'll never forget what he said: "The way I look at it, you might as well jump chest first into the empty pool."

I jumped, and I'm glad I did. Who knows, maybe one day I'll be able to belly dance again. You know, I still can't even sing karaoke. A while back I went to a karaoke bar with a bunch of friends. Courteney Cox got on that little stage and just sang her heart out. So did all the other friends around me. They're all hollerin' at me, "Go on up!" and I'm slinkin' in the back just looking for a place to hide. Every time they tried to pass me the microphone, I was wishing I had a paint gun in each hand.

You know what I'm hoping? One of these days there will be a moment when I can get up on that karaoke stage and sing. Let's face it, if I make a living making people laugh, why stop here?