The title pretty much speaks for itself, doesn't it? Yeah, today was flag day. I'll spare the details, except that Maureen, Becca and I walked around (little India especially) with big smiles plastered on our faces, asking for donations.

And although there were many who were more than generous, this post is about how selfish we all are, so I shall focus on the astonishing and depressing number of people who declined to donate or plain out right avoided us.

And this totally pissed/depressed me. There was a couple who avoided us from 2m off. We were standing by the zebra crossing (on the pavement, duh) and they were wallking towards us, and suddenly the woman grabs her partner's arm and said (loud enough for us to hear) 'eh! Cross this way.' And they did this pendulum walk across the road.

And so on. Maureen commented cheerfully that you can see the pattern of the crowd change when they are people asking for donations.

One thing you notice, the men are kinder, more willing to donate money. The women, especially the middle aged ones, in between 30s and 40s, I would say, are the worst people to ask from. Don't waste your breath. And you can tell, that when people purposely take out their handphone, they don't want to donate. And some other people, when you totter up to them smiling happily, and asking very politely if they would like to donate, they downright walk past you as if you were some sort of nothingness.

As Rebecca summed up: If I was invisible, I would make you mine tonight.... I already AM invisible.

I admit there were a couple of times I was sorely tempted to yell out: Thank you! I hope you enjoy your meaningless life!

There was an old man, two in fact, who were dependant on their walking sticks, leaning on them with their entire weight. I won't go into details, but the crux of it was that they really looked lonely and... unloved. And all these youngsters, teenagers were dashing past, ignoring them even, as if by pretending that the scab is not there, it will go away. Either that, or they just don't care at all.

And it hit me that so many people, so many people just care about themselves, about the money that they make, about their lives and whether their boss is going to notice how expecially hard working they were that particular morning.

It was that kind of typical situation in books where you imagine a throng of healthy, vibrant young people, listening to their ipods and toying with their handphones and jostling with each other, and as they pass, you suddenly notice that in the middle of them is an elderly, handicapped man, barely able to walk and struggling to stay upright. And they just continue to stream on by, as if he does not exist, yet the ironic thing is that they somehow seem to veer away from him as they near him, as if he has a contagious disease or something.

Seriously, what is wrong with humanity?

We went up to one of them to help them, but I think that he thought we were asking him for money... so the next time, we dumped on cans to Rebecca (sorry Becca!), but he said that he was alright.

Somehow CIP came on the perfect day, because I had dinner with a couple of my parents' oldest friends, one of which works for the Red Cross, and the other couple who work on humanitarian projects.

They were talking about a project they're working on in Chiengmai, where they help orphans who lost their parents through aids, to find their relatives. There was one particular boy who lived with his aunt and uncle and cousins in an apartment not big enough for all of them, and with no proper toilets, so his bed became a pile of tyres and zinc sheet outside the apartment, susceptible to all weather.

Yes! It's rubbery and flexible and yours for only 1 billion dollars! There you will experience the true beauty of Mother Nature's mercurial temperment!

With the monsoon season blowing it's warning breezes, there would indeed be a need to help him, would you not say?

Somehow, they (the uhh people working on that project) managed to find a comfortable enough house, with proper necessities, for S$3000, and they collected money to buy it, and put it in that little boy's name.

:D

Like I said, perfect timing. What with hearing about kids younger than us, whose greatest wish and dream would be to get a bed away from harsh weather conditions, whilst we, those who live in such diverse, cosmopolitan, city, worry and fret about getting that one little extra mark that would pull your grades up that little bit.

And I admit, I've been one of those people. It's hard, in a soceity where results are high on the pecking order, to scrap these as unimportant, and head for love.

And I admit, that when I saw my CA2 results, I was depressed and whinged around. (sorry to those who had to listen to my moaning!)

And I admit, that there are times, at school especially, my marks, my results, my homework deadlines, my ability to produce fine marks, are all that preoccupies me.

And I did all this while people somewhere not so far away, with the same organs- heart, brain, lungs, stomach, intestines etc as me, was crawling around with a determined face, trying to make the best of what they had, trying to find an inkling of hope that will push them over the surface and spring them out into sunlight.

I'm ashamed.

Damn, damn ashamed.

Because all this time, it's been about me. Sometimes I. Occasionally, us. Rarely, we.

Never them.

Absoultely never ever me helping them.

This is what we call our life.

No, this is how we are living our life.

Worse, this is how we aim to live our life.