I do have a reason.

I'm sorry everyone. I know I haven't updated in a while. But I have a really good reason.

It all started last Wednesday night, when I went to turn on my computer and got this message against a black screen:

"There has been a disk read error. Press Ctl. + Alt. + Del. to restart."

I did this, and got the same screen almost immediately.

After about five more panicked tries, I called home. For a half hour, I was crying to my parents about how I can't NOT have a computer AGAIN and to make a long story short there were many tears and I was very upset. But I eventually was able to fall asleep after writing out my science writing homework on a page of notebook paper (geez, when was the last time I did that?).

The next day I brought my computer into the good ol' Student Computer Repair Center, where they immediately told me that it was my hard drive. AGAIN. I told them that they had just replaced my hard drive in November, how could it POSSIBLY be broken? He told me it was probably defective. Fantastic. But he also told me that I could call them and get something called an Advanced RMA, and they'd send me another hard drive for free. So this I did. And found out I needed to go BACK to the SCRC and have them find the serial number on the actual hard drive. So after all this, and a fairly long conversation with some dude in India, I now have my hard drive at my house. If only I had the operating system disk and Microsoft Suite... that's on its way too. Hopefully.

I can't wait to get a Mac.

No one tells me anything.

This is a conversation that happened on Sunday night at 11:30 p.m.

Mom: Are you working tomorrow?

Me: No, I'm not.

Mom: Good. So then you're coming to the funeral with us?

Me: WHO DIED?!

Apparently my Auntie Louise died and no one told me. Until late the NIGHT BEFORE THE FUNERAL. Oh, and did I mention she died on Wednesday? That is almost an ENTIRE WEEK after the fact.

So I got to see my first dead body.

The next morning I entered the church with my family, and sawthe open casket in the distance. I quickly turned to my brother and said, "Oh God, I've never been to a wake before..." I'd only been to my grandfather's funeral, and my parents wouldn't let us kids go to the wake, which I have to say I'm thankful for. I wouldn't have wanted my last glimpse of my grandpa to be when he was dead. I like to remember him like he was when he was alive, not like how I'll probably remember Auntie Louise now. I mean, she was 92 years old, so it was probably her time to go, but it was still sad.

The day got slightly better when the der hayr went off on his crazy eulogy that made me make a face at my brother more than once during the ceremony, and the deacon's awesome heavy Worcester accent (like a Boston one) made us crack smiles we quickly tried to hide.

I don't know if you know this, but my family is loud. During the eulogy when the der hayr said something funny, my dad let out this staccato (and slightly delayed) "HA!" which made me and my entire immediate family look at him in alarm. Then Nishan and I tried not to laugh too hard. I mean, after all, we were at a funeral.

So after all this and the short ceremony at the cemetery, we went to a lovely luncheon served in an ice-cold church rec hall that was an event hall, a basketball court, and a theater all in one. And more of the loudness that is my family ensued. Because, you know, both of my dad's brothers were there too, not to mention all of the cousins on the Ovian side. I'm surprised no one lost their voice.

Ah, family functions. If we have this much fun at a funeral, you can only imagine what my graduation party will be like.

What has my life become: a walk with Virgil. I think this might be somewhere between the sixth and seventh circle of Hell.

So a few days ago, I registered on Goodreads.com in an attempt to find an online community in which I could participate (it gets frustrating reading the comments of tweens and knowing that you can't tell them to get a goddamn brain). As I added books I've read and surfed the site a bit, I came across a few lists. One was Best Young Adult Books Ever or something like that, and being the children's lit nut that I am, I clicked myself on over to see what was up. Imagine my horror when I saw Twilight was at the top of the list, above A Wrinkle in Time, The Giver, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Holes, and various other great and timeless children's novels. I wrote a comment about Twilight being up there. This sealed my fate.

I soon got an e-mail alert that someone named Sara had replied to the thread. Her response: "=0 you mean you don't like twilight????"

I responded that yes, that is what I meant. As if I hadn't been clear enough.

This soon led to a debate between me, Sara, and a kid named Carter about the merits and/or enormous flaws in the series. Of course, I was the one who was the opposition. And so this argument went on for a few days (I'm ashamed to admit it's still going on -- I just posted another response), with Sara telling me that "SHE LOOOOVVVES HIMM" and that they were meant for each other and that she loves him more than her own life blah blah blah blah. Yeah, that's a GREAT thing to be teaching young girls. "It's okay to COMPLETELY SHUT DOWN when your boyfriend leaves you." Outstanding job, Stephenie Meyer.

Yesterday night was my realization that Twilight has completely taken over my life, in a totally different way from how it takes over the obsessed tweens that frequent beaconstreetgirls.com. I can't escape it. I saw the movie last night for educational purposes (I had expected more than what I got to be honest, wasn't too fond of it; I did a lot of eye-rolling and if the theater had been empty I would have fake-vomited at some parts), as the movie ties in with two of my jobs (BSG and B&N). I can't get through five posts at BSG.com without encountering a fanatic 12-year-old (or younger) foaming at the mouth about how Edward Cullen is "sooooo hot" (by the way I have to edit "hot" to read "cute" too many times to count) and how Twilight is the best book in the entire world (this makes me sick -- what would Jane Austen and Charles Dickens and Sophocles and the Bronte sisters say to that?). And now, here I am, arguing with two kids about it. I found out last night that Sara is 11 freaking years old. What the hell. What am I doing??? I'm going completely insane, that's what. God help me and my independent study on teen vampire fiction next semester.

Merry Christmas

I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas. I also wanted to share this with you:

"I really like Christmas Eve. I think I like it even more than Christmas Day. On Christmas Day, you get to open your presents and see what you got, but you also know that Christmas is starting to be over for a year, and by nighttime some of the stuff you got is already broken. But on Christmas Eve, all the tree lights are on and carols are playing and people are saying 'Merry Christmas,' and everything is about to happen, but it didn't happen yet. That's the best time of the year."

That's from Dave Barry's book The Shepherd, the Angel, and Walter the Christmas Miracle Dog, which is a fantastic (and very short) book that literally made me both laugh (out loud!) and cry (real tears!). This perfectly captures how I feel about Christmas and Christmas Eve.

I hope you're all well, and that your day is wonderful and full of love. Or that you get your official Red Ryder carbine-action two-hundred-shot range-model air rifle.

This is how I spent my first Saturday home.

This morning, the entire Ovian family piled into the Ford Freestyle and made the trek to the Lowell Showcase Cinemas. The purpose? To see Irving Berlin's White Christmas on the big screen, of course. After much bickering and yelling and bad feeling toward all, we entered the theater parking lot to celebrate the season of giving and love.

And what to our wondering eyes should appear, but a family SUV with an "Armenia" sticker on the rear? It was the only other car in the entire lot, as it was just shy of 10 in the morning the day after a terrible snow storm. Of course, we all figured we would know them, since really, we know practically every Armenian family in the New England area, let alone an hour's drive from our house. My mother was off like a shot to see who it was--and lo and behold, it was the Piligians, a family my family has known for YEARS. At least three of them: Uncle Stephan, Auntie Susan and Lauren.

Of course, when old family friends reunite, especially Armenians, it means there will be no peace for anyone in the vicinity. Throughout the movie, my dad made the usual comments he makes when we watch the film ("You see that guy? He was in West Side Story!" and "How do you feel now??"), and in addition we got the bonus comments of Auntie Susan and Uncle Stephan. It was a good time.

Afterward, we decided to go to lunch at the Chili's next door, after Lauren called her brother Andrew to join us. Now, I am not sure how we got onto the subject of gingers, or why Lauren staunchly calls them so, but we ended up explaining to my dad what they are, and I'm pretty sure trying to convince someone that gingers are not the result of incest (*coughLaurencough*). I think I also might have mentioned gingervitis.

Imagine my anticipation of the hilarity and hijinks that would ensue when I saw a redheaded server round the corner in the nearly empty Chili's. Did I mention that we were a large group of very loud Armenians?

I was the only one who saw him at first, so of course the only thing I could do was eagerly wait and see what the others' reactions would be. My mother was the first to notice: she just about spit out her food and her eyes bulged out of her head right before she poked Auntie Susan and pointed. Slowly the information spread. I waited until he was far enough away before I told Nishan what was going on--he actually did spit out some of his food in an effort to keep his laughter from being too loud. That's when I lost it myself. I couldn't help it! It was FUNNY.

Later the guy walked by us reeeeaaaaaalllll slow. I'm pretty sure he was trying to eavesdrop (not that he would have to try real hard since we were being loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear) and see if we were still talking about the gingers. We were not. At least not until he passed us again.

When my dad asked for the check, our waitress had it in her hands, already bringing it to us. I said she probably heard Nishan, who had rudely yelled out "Check!" Andrew suggested they were kicking us out due to our earlier conversation. I really hope that's the case; at least, I will brag in the future that I was kicked out of a Chili's because we exhibited anti-ginger behavior.

Out-of-context quote of the day.

daydreamerr87 (9:02:48 PM): YOU'RE A GIRL
Gallibomb05 (9:02:50 PM): I KNEW IT!

Parenting fail.

I overheard possibly one of the greatest conversations ever between a mother and her young son today in Target.

Mom: Watch out, don't step in that.
Son: What is it? Is it dog...sit?
Mom: *grumble grumble stern low voice* Don't say that.
Son: But YOU say it!
Mom: Yes, well, I'm allowed to say it.

My theory: If you don't want your 4-year-old son to swear, it's probably not a good idea to swear in front of him. Especially when you are talking about dogshit. That's not even an expletive; it's just an unnecessarily dirty mouth in front of your young children. Nice job lady.