First of all, I'd like to say Happy Birthday to my dad. He's the smartest guy I know and the best human being I've ever come into contact with. His sense of humor, taste, and dry wit have shaped me into the wedgie-giving, paisley-wearing, smart-ass gal that I am today. Thanks, Daddy, for having sex with my mom twenty-three and a half years ago.

Eww. Now on to other things . . .

Relationships. Now, quit rolling your damn eyes at me; I'm not talking about romance here. I'm talking about the true meaning of the word: relating to others. Every time we meet a new person, we establish a relationship with them. Whether that relationship lasts fifteen seconds or fifteen years, it's still a relationship. Now, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about the interaction between human beings. On a day to day basis, we frequently come into contact with other homo sapiens. And since we're sentient, cognizant creatures capable of a multitude of reactions and resposes, I've been trying to pay attention to how most of us relate to one another. Here's what I've come up with: Where is the love, people?

I'd like to preface this little rant by saying that I am guilty, too. I sometimes forget to love my sisters and brothers of the world. I forget that we are all fallible, that we all screw up. I forget that we are all friggin' human. I recognize my faults and it's through that recognition that I've come to observe my own behavior in others. For example . . .

The other day, I was driving to work. There was a van full of teenage boys at the stop light next to me. For seemingly no reason, they thought it necessary to point and jeer at the sight of me jammin' out in my car. The light turned green and my reaction to their unfriendly behavior was . . . What? Shake my head in wonder and drive on safely? Ignore them, go on my merry way and continue to sing along with the Marvin Gaye playing on the radio? No. Instead, I gave the whole vanload of them a healthy double-dose of The Ole Finger and hurled some pretty colorful phrases at them through the window. They responded in kind, and why shouldn't they have? They were only giving back what they got, right?

Later that evening, I was at the gas station buying a pack of cancer . . . er, um, I mean cigarettes. The man behind the counter asked me for my I.D. with a smile, let out a good-natured chuckle when he saw the picture (bad hair day, yuck), and told me with a genuine tone that he liked my name. I smiled, chuckled a little myself, and thanked him. Okay, so I did a little flirting, too. My point is that the entire exchange took just as long as with the kids in the van, but the overall effect was much more pleasant.

When people are genuinely nice to us, we're inspired to be a little more friendly ourselves. This is fact, not opinion. Just think about it. If a stranger tells you they like your shoes, is your first urge to punch them in the mouth? No (but if it is you need to seek some professional help). No, your first reaction is usually to smile. The opposite is also true. If someone tells you to go fuck yourself, you usually invite them to do the same or have some other aggressive reaction to them. Call it what you like. Those respected are those who are respectful. Harm none, do what you will. Or, if you want a more religious slant, do unto others as you would have done unto you. And a thousand other platitudes and cliches that all basically say that if you're nice to people, people are nice to you; if you're a mean bastard, the world will be shitty to you.

So, as you go along in life, as you meet and greet your fellow roommates on this planet, remember The Love. I'm about to spew some hippy-dippy advice here, so bear with me. Give as well as take, and I promise it will all come back to you in the long run. That's a Holly Riddle guarantee. Be good to each other, kids; what harm could it possibly do?

Until next time, babies, remember: I love you all.

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