Jackson Free Press

I have a Polaroid of myself taken sometime in this past year stuck in the edge of a mirror in the living room. One would think I was horribly conceited. This is probably true in some respects, but it isn't the main reason the picture is hanging near the front door. I keep it there because it was taken right before I quit my job of five years, and well, I also look horribly skinny in it. This past year held an assortment of upheaval for me. I went through three jobs in four months. It seemed every month I decided on something new I was going to be when I grew up. I'm surprised I didn't run off to join the circus. I probably would have if carnies didn't scare me and smell faintly of cabbage. Every so often, I look at this picture and think how the girl doing the fake "get-this-camera-out-of-my-face" grin had no idea what the next year held.

Someone once told me that discovering yourself is the best part of life. The year 2006 held more discovery than I really wanted to know. I turned 30 this year. In the middle of this mire of "what the hell am I doing with my life" that my birthday brought on, I languished in a non-directional depression. One night a friend, who was tired of my constant non-bathing and hour-long crying jags, offered me a seat on a flight to Chicago that was leaving in six hours. Did I mention he offered this seat at 1 a.m. after way too much vodka and a discussion that included me admitting I was thinking about going brunette? I think he realized, in that moment, that the situation was desperate. I jumped at the chance to leave everything behind that I believed was holding me down. Six hours later, I was calling my mother asking her to feed the cat and telling her I was sitting in the airport.

I spent the next four days in a suite off Michigan Avenue ordering room service and having spa treatments in the hotel. I wandered the streets of downtown Chicago alone and watched people. I sat on benches and thought about where I was going. I bought things I couldn't afford and ate lobster in my pajamas. In short, I spent those four days living someone else's life.

This past year has been spent living someone else's life in more ways than one. I don't know when I decided during that trip to return home and get down to the business of living my life, but it might have been right about the time the bill came, and I began to wonder how much a kidney was worth on the black market. I finally packed my things and headed back to Mississippi. When I walked in the door of the house, I put my keys beside the front door and noticed the Polaroid. I stared at it and actually wondered about the girl in the picture. Who is this "Ali"? She looks fun, right? She's holding a Corona with lime and wearing beautiful earrings. Her smile is straight and white. In short, she's everything a picture should be. Too bad she's just not me.

Two years ago, when I started writing columns, I picked a name I liked and decided that I could say whatever I wanted if I wasn't using my real name. What came out of me was often caustic, sometimes funny, and always full of disregard for what people thought about the writer. But it was never close enough to my heart to cause fear when someone disapproved. I was safe stating things I believed using a name that wasn't mine. It's not that I don't believe in everything "Ali" writes. I'm just often softer, more thoughtful and concerned with what people think about me.

I have no idea why I started writing under another name. Maybe it originally had something to do with shame. Maybe it had something to do with fear. Who am I to have opinions and to state them? I could say it had something to do with me being a 28-year-old woman raised in the Mississippi Delta, and I'd probably be right.

Recently, I've started wondering if this "Ali" wasn't eating my real life. I've decided that my resolution for 2007 is to reclaim what's mine. I've decided that in 2007 I'm no longer going to be afraid. I've decided that in 2007, I'm going to be me. The me that is softer, more thoughtful, full of passion for the things in which I believe. A girl who loves her mom and the kids with whom she works. A girl who is often so full of social anxiety she vibrates with fear when people ask her about "Ali." Because this girl doesn't deserve to be so afraid anymore.

I figured out the main thing I want to be when I grow up is me. When I stare at that Polaroid, I want to look at that woman and see someone who fights for what she believes in—under her own name. I want to see a woman who holds tightly to her life because it is something for which she has fought, a woman who states her opinions not because she feels safe hiding, but because she feels safe in knowing and believing them.

I guess the main thing I learned in 2006 is that, sometimes, deciding at 1 a.m. to take the 7 a.m. flight out of Jackson to Chicago will save your life.

My real name is Lori. It's nice to meet you.

Lori Gregory is the JFP columnist formerly known as Ali Greggs. Check out her Lori blog here.

Previous Comments

ID

74268

Comment

Strange to see my name up there. Uber strange...but nice.

Author

Lori G

Date

2007-01-03T15:38:23-06:00

ID

74269

Comment

Great column, Lori. ;-)

Author

Todd Stauffer

Date

2007-01-03T16:12:00-06:00

ID

74270

Comment

This is my favorite Ali-Lori column, yet. Welcome to your brave new world, Lori. Lori, Lori, Lori. You'll be Ali-I mean-Lori for a while, you know. But we're trying. ;-)

Author

DonnaLadd

Date

2007-01-03T16:19:57-06:00

ID

74271

Comment

Now wait. Is it Ali or Lori who helps me with the snakes in my head? I mean, if it's Ali, should I be worried about all my secrets coming out? Love you Lori. Thanks for being you.

Author

emilyb

Date

2007-01-03T17:33:33-06:00

ID

74272

Comment

OH, and will you still issue douchebag cards? We have to keep those. In fact, I saw in Bust magazine were you can order the actual cards. Little business-card looking things...proclaiming "You are a douche!"

Author

emilyb

Date

2007-01-03T17:34:46-06:00

ID

74273

Comment

Hello Lori Gregory, and Happy New Year . I can really empathize with this column, for it was also a few months before my own 30th birthday when I finally made my decision to be the real me as well. You have a wonderous and profound new world awaiting you. In fact, I like to say that it wasn't until I was 29 when I turned 18, given that the world felt so wide open after I junked this "be like everyone else or be dissed" attitude. (so I guess I was 19 at 30 :P ). Just be sure to incorporate the fun, smart, sensitive, and compassionate side of Ali into Lori (which I know you will :) ) Again, Lori, welcome to your world of freedom and discovery

Author

Philip

Date

2007-01-03T19:06:48-06:00

ID

74274

Comment

Thanks guys! I actually almost cried when I saw my real name on the column. Very weird. Emily, the snakes are kept by ME. Ali would have told you to shut your damn mouth and keep drinking. But, um, where'd you say you saw those douche cards? ;)

Author

Lori G

Date

2007-01-03T19:10:08-06:00

ID

74275

Comment

I think it was Bust. Mr. Steam Jeans found them and said we HAVE to get them for you. And he's right.

Author

emilyb

Date

2007-01-03T19:55:10-06:00

ID

74276

Comment

Hi Lori. Boy, you had me fooled. I thought your name really was Ali. You were only the 3rd Ali I knew, besides Harrison Ford's wife and that brat pack girl who graduated to indie moves. Nice to meet you. Oddly enough, my real name is GLB. My parents are members of a bizarre religious sect that doesn't believe in the use of vowels. Just kidding there. Truth be told, I think you and Ladd are the only ones on here who know my real name, although I wouldn't be at all offended if you don't remmeber it. I stick to my semi-anonymity on here for what I think are good reasons, and if you are curious I'll tell you what they are if I ever happen to run into you again. If that happens, though, I'll be sure to call you Lori. Just please don't throw your drink on me.

Author

GLB

Date

2007-01-03T19:56:55-06:00

ID

74277

Comment

I remember it. But your secret is safe with me. ;-)

Author

DonnaLadd

Date

2007-01-03T20:01:46-06:00

ID

74278

Comment

I've been betrayed by Cassius Clay! How much did you spend on Michigan Avenue? I spent 5,000.00 in 5 days on Michigan Avenue trying to hang out with some rich lawyers in 1995. After the 4th day I realized again I was just po' azz Ray Carter who would be begging for money to pay the office rent if I didn't soon get my ignant butt out of Chicago soon. Ali, Lori, Mary, Jane or whoever my feelings about you haven't changed any. You're still the bomb. I almost didn't read this.

Author

Ray Carter

Date

2007-01-04T16:09:38-06:00

ID

74279

Comment

Aw, Ray. Now you know not to judge a column by its byline. ;) I don't want to talk about how much money I spent on Michigan Avenue. I actually licked the Gucci storefront. I felt badly about it afterwards...but not much.

Author

Lori G

Date

2007-01-04T21:30:40-06:00

ID

74280

Comment

Congratulations, Lori. I love your columns, whatever name is on them, and as a much, much older Mississippi woman, boy, does this one resonate with me!

Author

C.W.

Date

2007-01-06T09:58:15-06:00