When I was a kid, I would talk to anybody. About anything. Endlessly. You’re all shocked, right?
I have a vivid recollection of sitting on a bench at Curly Slide Park (if you want to be accurate, it’s called Canyon View Park, which in my opinion grossly understates the park’s glorious attractions) going on and on to a complete stranger about Ramona Quimby. She was eight, I was eight – this was very important and deeply meaningful. She, meaning Ramona. The woman was probably in her 30s or 40s and god bless her, patient as the day is long. I talked to her so long that my mom was compelled to apologize for my chattiness (I remember this being the first time I ever heard the phrase “talk your ear off”; I was a very literal kid and it bothered me. A lot).
Anyway, not much has changed in twenty something years. I’m a talker. A texter, and emailer, an IMer (not much of a phoner, but that has more to do with total and complete inability to focus while on the line. What was that you were saying? I’m sorry, I got caught up de-linting my sofa cushions) and a blogger. I’ll tell most anyone my business as long as it serves some sort of entertainment or therapeutic purpose. Though, more and more often, I go with the sanitized version. See, I’m slowly learning what some folks are naturally programmed with: discretion.
It’s been a hard lesson learned. And publicly, too. Remember when I said too much in the New York Times? Someone at a big fancy paper asked me to write a story and I was thrilled. The backlash was instant and intense. I was young and so terribly naive and I took the criticism very hard. My inbox flooded with shame-on-you emails. The comment box filled up with much the same. Someone even went so far as to create a blog, pink and filled with my reworded and re-punctuated (so!! many! exclamation points!!) entries to make me look even more naive and foolish. Why? Because over-sharing was just about the most pathetic thing the mock-blog’s creator could fathom. I cried myself to sleep for a week. Incidentally, this person seems to have spent the last couple years unlearning the lesson that her adventures in html taught me; evidence of it recently graced the cover of the New York Times Magazine.
Life, it is funny. Mean, sometimes, but funny.
The above is all a very lengthy preamble to say, I promised you a story. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized that for the sake of discretion, I just can’t deliver on that promise. Except to say: I now know the most fun you can have in a swimming pool has absolutely nothing to do with chicken fights.
Rowrr.
Hmm… sounds strangely like my 8 year old self. I distinctly remember overstaying my welcome with a leather-clad metalhead in his early twenties and his prospective makeout partner with my incessant chatter about music. Incidentally, I’m holding off on starting a blog because I think I might spill too much of my life as I so often tend to do!
NuttyT
P.S. I adore your blog! It keeps me alive at work!
not. fair. But happy to see you had fun
Good for you, Fish! So long as you’re happy…
*Sad* I was dying to read a good story, yet I can very much understand the need for discretion. I myself am too discreet and my blog suffers for it. Happy swimming…
*Sad* I was dying to read a good story, yet I can very much understand the need for discretion. I myself am too discreet and my blog suffers for it. Happy swimming…
I think I read that article in the NYTimes; Modern Love?
I liked it. And would never have sent a “shame on you” email. Anyone who claims never to have done internet stalking is either a liar or too old to be internet savvy.
I hope the fun included that hunky neighbor!!
OMG, Ramona Quimby, Age 8. She SO got me… I remember marveling at that…I remember talking my mom’s ear off about it too. She didn’t seem to think it was as amazing as I did. I took a media class in college where I was asked to partition my life into sections and talk about one form of media that deeply affected me. Ramona Quimby, Age 8 was my pick for the elementary years
Was the the book with the toothpaste episode? I remember thinking, “I would NEVER do THAT!”
I’m currently listening to Alan Alda’s terrific “Things I Learned While Talking to Myself” on CD. In one of his first chapters, he talks about a commencement speech he gave for his oldest daughter in which he recognizes that quite often, the most important part of a conversation happens at the end, in a doorway: “Oh, by the way, ” Or in this case, “Oh by the way, Rowrr!” Well done. Story told.
Good for you! I respect your decision and encourage discretion ALWAYS. But sometimes it’s really hard, especially when your story is incredibly juicy and begs to be told.
that’s the beauty of it, doll — you don’t owe us a damn thing, so just write what you feel and be true to yourself first and foremost.
I dare say that interesting aside you threw in there adds a whole new layer to that NYTMag article. But then, I never understand what someone has to gain by leaving nasty comments, so of course I wouldn’t understand the motivation behind creating a fake, mock-blog. One would think I’d believe in the tooth fairy with all that naivete, eh?
Oh my god. I just realized the full circle of this all. And re-read the NY Times article. And read between the lines. NYC must have been a very incestuous blog community back then.
But if I make that kind of friend as result of dragging my (now ex) fiance’s dirt out in public, maybe it’ll all be worthwhile? If not, well, let’s save if not for after I stop living on tic-tacs and bad coffee and cigarettes and misery.
wait – emily wrote a parody blog of you? where?
Yes, she did. It (blissfully) no longer exists. And I think ‘parody’ might be giving it a little too much credit for creativity.
Can we get a link to this person’s public embarrassment?
No offense but if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen or don’t read the hate mail. You have a right not to listen or read or care. Plus, what do you expect? If you put yourself out there, you have take the good with the bad. Pretty funny about the mock site. That’s when you know you’ve made it. Christ. Think about it. Someone is so jealous of you that they’d waste their time mocking you? You can’t go all discreet on us now. That makes you a TEASE and something you aren’t. C’mon. You can’t tease us like that and not spill the beans.
No offense but if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen or don’t read the hate mail. You have a right not to listen or read or care. Plus, what do you expect? If you put yourself out there, you have take the good with the bad. Pretty funny about the mock site. That’s when you know you’ve made it. Christ. Think about it. Someone is so jealous of you that they’d waste their time mocking you? You can’t go all discreet on us now. That makes you a TEASE and something you aren’t. C’mon. You can’t tease us like that and not spill the beans.
I am absolutely a tease. I always have been.
Just consider this an exercise in using your imagination.
Funny how any time anytime a comment starts a sentence with, “No offense” something passive aggressive is about to follow.
Just the other day, I was trying to explain the joys of the Ramona Quimby series to my husband (who didn’t seem very impressed.) One of our landscape blocks had smashed in our driveway, and it reminded me of when Ramona and Howie played Brick Factory. I think I may dig out my old books to read again.
I don’t think I have been reading long enough to know about the NYT debacle (or maybe I missed it…!), but thank you for oversharing, Fish. Your blog was my inspiration in the summer of 2005 when I started taking my own blog seriously. Shortly after that, that blog got “discovered” for a book deal (no, really) and I now blog for four other sites. I’ve struggled with issues of perceived oversharing too, especially when men or relationships are involved. (My “real job” is writing a relationship advice column though, so I chalk it up as part of the job.) Anyway, I still consider you to be a huge inspiration in my own writing…your bravery in talking openly about your life is indeed therapeutic…and entertaining…and just addictive. Please ignore the hurtful comments that people make. As you know, they keep coming back and reading no matter what they have to say. Secretly, they love what the rest of us admit to openly.
Some things are better left to the imagination – which is OK!
Sad! I love living vicariously through you! But alas, people can’t keep their passive aggressiveness (read jealousy) to themselves and ruin it for the rest of us. I hope you continue to give us the bait so we can make up our own Fish exploits at least.
Rowrr, indeed.
I now MUST know who is on the cover of the NYT magazine…
Good for you. I have such a big mouth I am always impressed by people who can honestly keep their’s shut. (Mind you, not people who act all superior, like “I know something you don’t know”, but people who don’t even let on that they know anything juicy in the first place.) Perhaps when my oversharing gets me in trouble one too many times, I’ll learn my lesson.
…on a side note, it is very interesting to finally get the whole “behind the scenes” story. I distinctly remember reading the “contouring duo” blog, as well as the bit about “cutlets”
Ramona rocked! She was brave, crazy and wonderful. I passed her books along to my much younger sisters, and then again to my daughter. She holds a special place in my heart.
As you can see, I have not yet learned enough about discretion. I was not born with a filter, and my ADD lets me constantly chatter without noticing anyone else’s discomfort.
I think your writing is fantastic, you make me smile and laugh out loud. Best of~ ever.
Emily Gould – a tempest in a tampon applicator, cover of NYT or not. NOTHING could be more fun in the pool than chicken fighting so I’m stumped. I can haz hintz pleez? kthx.
To quote Arrested Development… you get off on being withholding, don’t you? But good for you, for knowing when to stop.
I was the same way as a kid, and I have no doubt that I drove many a victim insane with my never ending barrage of chatter. And the phone! That’s exactly how I feel!
Um, anyone else thinking her old Ramona books would make some good summer reading??
Yeah!!!! I LOVE swimming pools, lol!
And I bet that woman on the bench thought you were adorable! I’ll bet she still thinks of you every now and then, and smiles at how cute you were.
Wow, I didn’t know EG did that. Looks like karma may have gotten her, huh? I missed your own backlash, but what she’s getting has been intense.
I’ve been torn between feeling like she deserves it, feeling sorry for her, and feeling baffled that she even went there in the first place. Really? REALLY? After all that? Amazing.
Blog Tease!
Although honestly, with the rowwr, I get to imagine what happened. Which may or may not be better than what happened…
I feel very sorry for her…and you, too, for how mean she was to you.
The internet saddens me sometimes. It offers such wonderful possibilities for communication but then it exposes how cruel people can be, especially when they they don’t have to come face to face with their targets.
You’re right, Fish. The most fun you can have in a swimming pool has absolutely NOTHING to do with chicken fights. Yay
I read the NYT online and read the blogger article by Emily. Interesting to know that she dumped on you. Now she’s on the receiving end. Turn abouts is fair play… as my mom always said. I’m sure Susan said the same to you. JZ
LOL – ’nuff said Heather. The story would be nice but my imagination is probably quite adequate! New man in your life I take it? That’s great! You deserve the best! Sigh – I remember having my last swimming pool. The fun of being able to spend the night frolicking in the water hehe.
i want details of the E.G. story! i must have missed the boat all those years ago, but i read the article in the times mag and didn’t see a mention of fish… she was a hater who got hers years later?
in other news: you are correct on the pool fun. chicken is for 8 year olds;)
You are hiliarious! I really like your sense of humor. I’m hoping my blog might be at least half as funny as yours (I’m not sure how to determine funny in quantity, but I will try). Please check out my blog!
http://www.animalslovesnacks.blogspot.com
Thanks and write forever!
Julie
I’ll have to go read Ramona, I personally was all about Harriet the Spy.
Good foro you. The other night I had a very good time with someone and I kept it all to myself. As much as I wanted to share this with someone I decided to keep it to myself. Now I have all the moments of thinking back to myself. And it makes me feel kind of scandalous. lol
Oh, This Fish…all I have to say is, she chose…poorly.
I don’t understand why people dumped on you for the Modern Love piece. But, I don’t secretely hate myself and feel the need to publicly hate on others. I think your writing is still extremely honest and compelling even though you censor the details now. Maybe even more so, because it becomes more about the sensation/idea of what happened,and more universal, than details like which particular guy you’re writing about.
“Funny how any time anytime a comment starts a sentence with, “No offense” something passive aggressive is about to follow.”
Yes! Just like no one ever starts out anything worth listening to with the phrase “I’m not racist or anything but … ”
For the other commenters who are as curious as I was about this person who is getting her comeuppance, if you read the blog post and the comments carefully you can figure it out. Google is your friend.
I’d like to email Heather – anyone have any idea what her address is?
thisfish at gmail dot com
Unfortunately it sounds like this comment is a couple of years too late, but I really enjoyed your Modern Love piece. Less so that other girl’s story.
Because of your honesty, to my husband who joins me in forgetting things…
you are my favourite thing,
but there is also the smell of a lily while I sleep.
and a tucker nuzzle and a jaxon purr and a payton hug.
the smell of clean sheets, off the line, in the country,
your spaghetti sauce when I feel so bad I can’t eat.
My dad’s crooked smile when he means it,
your bum.
But also, an open sky, a grid road
that art/poem/excerpt that makes me wonder,
is there is someone out there that gets me?
and flannel, air conditioning
Drive-ins…holding hands
a kiss on my neck, a sleeping pill that works,
a mohita, the smell of freshly mowed grass, a cut of fresh cedar with a circular saw
gasoline,
a loon’s cry
and ‘baby i’m amazed’ when i hear it for the first time
again
after a call that you’re thinking about me just cuz its playing
you are my favourite thing
You be acquainted with that saying, it takes a village to frame a child?
Evidently, Kanye’s village has failed him. He patently doesn’t have a existent friend in the world. There does not rise to be anyone who can stir from stem to stern to him, to promulgate him catch on to that he needs to curb his obnoxious behavior.