Lies We Tell Ourselves

• Author: Kenneth P. Nolan
• Pages: 165-169

Lies We Tell Ourselves

165

Paparazzi aren’t stalking us as we sip our cappuccino. TMZ

will never detail how sexy we look in our Brooks Brothers blue.

Certainly, we’re not tabloid famous like sad Lindsay Lohan or Charlie

Sheen. No trailer with our name sits on a movie set, nor do we stroll

the red carpet in Chanel before screaming teens. Sure, I’d love to

pal with Jack at Lakers games, have a Sam Adams with Matt Damon

in Southie, or split a pasta at Del Posto with Meryl Streep. But I’m

not that cool. I’m not Hollywood. Nor are you.

But, still, we are in the entertainment business. It’s just that we

lack the fame, money, and arm candy. We’re actors, after all. We

stand before a judge or jury and feign outrage, evoke sympathy,

and, on occasion, cause a chuckle. When we step into a courtroom,

we play a part, a role. We adopt a persona, speak and move with

purpose, all to convince a weary, apathetic audience we’re right.

We memorize lines, argue and beg, strut about, and use many of

the skills of Oscar winners in pursuit of success. Alas, no visual

effects make us beautiful, nor is there any chance for retakes before

someone screams, “That’s a wrap!” Our set is real, no 3-D glasses

needed. Our performance is spontaneous, done every day all day,

and if we bomb, catcalls are heard from clients, partners, spouses,

even kids.