Sleep Don't Weep.

So my roommate (Gill) keeps bugging me to write. Not bugging, motivating. Bugging is negative. I'm trying not to be negative anymore (sometimes I fail, but that's human nature, right?). I actually usually forget that I even have a blog. Blog. Where did that term come from, anyways? I'll probably wikipedia it later. I'm pretty sure Wiki is the best thing that has been created on the interweb (just checked, blog comes from the word weblog so that actually makes a lot of sense).
I don't actually have a specific subject to write about right now. Basically I'm sitting here, bored out of my mind at work, so I figured I should put my brain to good use, rather than just staring at the screen, zoning out into a different a world. A techno-vision world (which really bothers my eyes).
So I have also decided to put my spare time to good use. I am not going to be volunteering with the Spence Neighbourhood Association. I am actually going to meet the Coordinator today, which I must admit, I'm a little nervous about. Specifically, I'll be helping out with the Three Stars and a Wish program, which involves being paired up with a family and the parent shares a story (traditional, familial, or madeup) with their child and me. From there I help the child create a drawing based on the story and then there will be a book launch sometime in July. I find it really important for families to find time to spend with their children, to help find the child's interests and motivate them to pursue their interests. I hope that the child, and their parent(s) take this experience and remember it always. To know that I potentially helped a kid find a way to use their spare time to pursue their interests, rather than get involved in a negative surrounding really makes me feel like I am good for something. Like I'm here for a reason. Not to save children, or anything (I don't think I'm Holden Caulfield), but to just help guide them. Maybe just a little bit.
I sometimes wonder if all the shit my brother went through affected me more than it did him. If it wasn't him who went through all of that, could it have been me? Would I want to help at all?