I’m ashamed of myself. I did something earlier this week that I feel very guilty about — I got roped into helping make the world a better place.

Frankly, the world doesn’t do it for me (actually, these days no one does). It’s surly and unresponsive to my ministrations. And (obviously) it hates me.

Accordingly, I hold dear the notion that helping other people is a pursuit of fools and children. Grown ups should only care about important things like getting someone to TiVo the season finale of “Grey’s Anatomy” (incidentally, if anyone has it, I really want a copy).

The details of my foray into social responsibility aren’t particularly interesting, and I’d rather we didn’t dwell on it too much. However, as I was relaxing afterwards trying to deal with the rising bile, the nauseous feelings and the general sense of worthiness, I was struck by a thought: Cardinal undergraduates seem to enjoy helping others.

In fact, if I were being fair, I would have to admit that this disease of helpfulness extends to my peers as well — bunch of selfless do-gooders. But fairness was never really my strong point.

Of course, we’re over simplifying somewhat if we just leave the motivation for “getting involved” as a desire to help people. The truth is, as always, a little subtler and a little less altruistic.

You see, what the children want is not to save the world, but rather to hug it. They wish to grasp it in a loving embrace and offer tender ministrations and soft caresses — all in the hope of getting some play in return.

Unfortunately, this sort of touchy-feely approach is destined to go nowhere. The world is not huggable. It’s spiky and unpleasant. If you try and touch it gently, it will grab you with its Venus Flytrap-like jaws and swallow your good intentions.

While this does make one a little sad — after all the poor dears do try so hard — part of me (by which I mean most of me) finds the hugging process terribly amusing.

Young folk really Care. And because they think that Caring is very important, they’re very earnest about it.

All this keenness is a little vomit-inducing at first, but one can get past that with a little effort. And then it’s almost impossible not to smile.

It’s a little like watching pigeons fly into windows — we all know it’s painful, but you can’t help but chuckle at such repeated stubbornness. Plus there’s something quite nice about the existence of a literal realization of the “banging your head against a wall” metaphor.

Futility brings us back to the real problem with hugging: It rarely does any good. The demonstrations, the frequent late-night discussions and the conviction that the world can be changed by a few wristbands are sort of sweet and endearing, but they’re also wrong.

People grow out of altruism; rather, they continually redefine “others” until they’re helping themselves (typical logic includes: “If I buy myself this plasma TV I’ll be more relaxed, and it will be easier for me to save the starving children”). And, since it doesn’t last forever, the folly of Caring is not quite as irritating as the myriad of other dubious habits that can found on the Farm.

What’s more, if genuine selflessness is a phase that the kids will eventually grow out of, I suppose we should take the Good Parenting approach: Smile indulgently and remember how, when we were little, we were just the same.

If you really want something to kiss and make better, email Navin at navins@stanford.edu to come to some arrangement.