Lately, being in the Calgary Tango community has been like swimming in the Ganges and believing that you won’t absorb any toxins if you keep your mouth shut. Oh my, now that’s harsh.
A year ago, when I first started writing this blog about my impressions of the Calgary community upon my return from Buenos Aires, I was told by one of our most prominent organizers that I had to edit my post as it reflected badly upon the community to outsiders – potential new prospects. So being the restrained people-pleaser that I am (upon occasion), I deleted some of my more abrasive observations. I did not, however, remove the link to ‘her’ ‘non-profit’ society from my Blogroll as demanded; it remains public information. Anybody that thinks there is privacy on the world wide web is living in the Dark Ages. Meanwhile, without the assistance of my astute musings, the community managed to disintegrate all by itself.
Well, I hope the new tangueros in Calgary since that time are happy that they were not deterred (as if they could/would be) by my ramblings. I’ve remained well-behaved, for the most part, minded my metaphors and kept a cap on my acerbic wit. But at some point, somewhere along the way during the past year, I acquired an overdose of bullshit and as you well know – eventually those toxins just gotta get purged. I am/feel affected by what happens in my community whether I believe it or not, surround myself with white light, or mind my own business, I am affected and it’s taking it’s toll. I’m sick.
It’s not comforting to know that anyone can Google anyone and find ‘the dirt on them’. I don’t have any privacy. In the past month I have had my email address unwittingly shared with multitudes of people I don’t know all over the world. Then, I had my Gmail hacked and spam sent to everyone on my contact list. I felt violated without recourse. Then, I received several emails forwarded or copied to me that included me in other people’s business without my consent – copies of court documents, personal letters between business partners, former friends, and others. I have been privy to all kinds of personal information that I didn’t ask for, nor did I want. Too much information.
Also this month I felt infected by the fact that yet another complete narcissistic idiot entrusted to political office sent pictures of his ‘namesake’ across the wire – for goodness sake!!! (Do women actually like that?) Then, an anonymous request for a link exchange – another tango blogger who didn’t include her name in her comment nor on her site. When I emailed and said I didn’t know her – she replied that she prefers to blog anonymously in Buenos Aires so that she is able to write the truth without fear of consequence. Oh … what a good idea … Why didn’t I consider that …?
I hear that Apple has now come out with something called an iCloud where anything you ever committed to electronic print will remain in the ether forever. That’s a long time. There is no privacy on-line, every thing is forwardable, copyable and hacakable. Nothing is sacred in this web we weave. Communicating electronically must include restraint (?!) and an attitude of non-attachment.
Oh, so now you probably think I’m going to let loose with a tirade of ‘astute observations’ and fill you in on the drama that’s been happening. Nah … there are already too many versions of the truth floating around out there. You’ve probably heard some of them. Adding my story to the mix wouldn’t ‘serve’ anybody. Speaking out seems to result in getting pushed under by bullies. Besides, it’s all gotten kind of boring. After the ‘tango baby’ incident a few years back, everything pales in comparison.
I am trying to keep my head above water, treading, still learning to swim, hoping to keep my pores closed and my mouth shut so that I don’t absorb effluence, swallow swill, and have it come back to haunt me. I would like to dance as much as possible as I hear that moving around a lot helps the flow of lymphatic fluid remove the toxins from the body. Unfortunately, I’m running out of places to dance – ‘voting with my feet’ so to speak. So, maybe I’ll just take some time off and wait for the dust to settle, wait for for some form of phoenix to rise out of the ashes – one that doesn’t look anything like the one destroyed by self-immolation.