by Cameryn Moore
There was a time, in the late ‘90s, when I drove quite frequently from my home in Santa Rosa, CA, to various editing gigs (I know) and copyediting classes (I KNOW, all right?) in San Francisco, about an hour’s drive south. “Quite frequently” = at least once a week, sometimes twice? I wasn’t rolling in the dough, but I guess I was doing well enough. Had to be, in order to pay for all that gas, plus the $3 toll for south-bound traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge. Every time I crossed the bridge, I paid with a five-dollar bill and received two one-dollar bills in change.
Now, there were a few occasions when I seriously thought about putting that money away; I mean, I was just getting started in the freelance format, and my girlfriend was going back to school. We probably could have used that $15-20 a month. But I just kept doing it, because the fact that I even had the crumpled ones in hand to dither over, meant that actually I could afford it, and someone else needed it.
Money. Do I have money? Sometimes, honestly. I go out for coffee maybe once a week on my own, because I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE, ahem. Yeah, still doing phone sex. So if I can scrape together three bucks for a latté and tip, then those couple of dimes that I dig out of the corners of my bag, those are not mine.
Huh. I don’t even want to jinx it by talking about it, but… but I think I might have been onto something, back then when I was giving out those ones. I think I need to go back there now, to that place where I remember that I have things to give. I can afford it. I can spare it. I can spare something. Maybe not $2 a week. Maybe not even money. But things that other people don’t have. I need to remember. I am not broke. I will always have something that I can afford to give.
Cameryn Moore's Indiegogo Campaign for Phone Whore
Cameryn Moore will also be in the 24-Hour Play event at Theatre Ste-Catherine