My Saturday night was totally consisting of Chex Mix and a movie I will not say the name of because I could get beat down in a dark alley(or in a bright sunny-day alley, for that matter) if I mention what the name could even be close to(ahem, The Holiday).

Anyway, I was doing the whole "In for the evening" look. You know, my "in for the evening" attire with my "in for the evening" messy hair and "in for the evening" unshaven look while sprawled on my couch. I may or may not have been writing down quotes from the movie that I will not mention(ahem, The Holiday) laughing and crying and being all "Dang! Why do certain lines in certain movies HAVE to ALWAYS be right!" Because, lately, that's what I have been doing... just looking for places and things and movies and music to identify with. In certain segments of our life, when we're going through some things we just need a little help with, we try to find things where we can say: "Tooootalllly...." Because, well, as much as our friends love us they do get tired of saying: "It's going to be alright." And as much as our parents and mailmen and the guy that walks his dog every morning right in front of my apartment say: "It's going to be alright", you still keep searching for answers. And things seem tough and Saturday nights like that can seem lonely and the world can seem bitter and cruel and mean and dumb and not worth all the time you try to invest in it and then you get really crabby and your "In for the evening" attire isn't as comfy as it was supposed to be and you hate the world and nothing seems right in life and then... you get a text that says:

"Will passed away."

You will pause your movie. You will reread the text three and four and six times. You will sit up and hold your cell phone in your hand and shake it a little bit to see if the words that form that sentence will jumble in to a new organization of words to spell out something that will not make you want to cry.

Will was this big happy guy that came to my bar every shift I worked. He was the type of guy that had that laugh that echoed even if the room would have been padded with thick gooey no echo stuff. This laugh. DAMN! Huge. Loud. And it happened often because he always told bad jokes that were so bad they ended up good.

"Byron, Byron what does a gay horse say?" He would ask winking while sipping on his lite beer while I'd be doing glass cleaning.

"Um, I dunno Will, what does a gay horse say?"

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"

And I would shake my head and laugh and then we'd most likely cheer our beers and he and his friends would stay for hours entertaining my often long shifts at the bar. He was just a good person that, well, you can just tell... because he got nicer and nicer the more drinks he drank. You can always tell a person's heart by what kind of drunk they are. I didn't know him well, just from the bar. But sometimes you just know people no matter how often you see him.

Plus. He was only twenty-six... my exact age.

I sat in my dark apartment with Cameran Diaz paused with her mouth open on my t.v. screen, I realized I've been looking for answers in a lot of wrong places. Movies give you the pretty version of all endings. Friends, as much as they love you, love you and want to tell to you the things you most likely want to hear. The mail man, well, we really never talk about anything except magazines getting stuck in mailboxes. But the people, the ones you barely know, they are the ones with the answers. They are the ones, when you lose them, don't leave gaping holes in your life, but they leave harsh reminders.

They remind you that sometimes you do not have enough time to sit around and feel sorry for what isn't happening and go for the things that are. They remind you that no matter how old you are ANYTHING can happen at ANY time.

They remind you that you should laugh as loud as you can because it will leave an echo that will be heard long after you are gone and will remind those, even those you didn't know it could remind, that things are much better than they seem.