Happy birthday, Raq. I do hope you'll have wonderful and awesome fun today.
And thanks, all. I'm still kind of shaken. Apparently my sister was at the other side of the road and saw it all (my poor thing. It's the third bombing she's at. She's claiming it's scarier to see rockets fly above you). Another friend took #74 (the bus that took the hit) that passed 10 minutes before. I still hope people I know are alright. There are too many of them to call to, even if they just go to the same classes with me.
And actually, rockets aren't so bad (unless flying directly above you, as the sister says). Mostly if the protected room in the house has the TV and the DVD player in it. And you have an alarm and time to go there. There are (mostly, unless it's a rare direct hit) safe places to hide. In bombings... NSM.
Oh, and in happy news: I have a request. I'm gonna give a mini-lecture in some kind of a very elitist Israeli blogger's evening (6 of us, each talks for 12 minutes). Kindda like TED, only more theoretical one with people who really love to analyze things too much. So I'm gonna speak about how we can change and shift the discourse, perception and access to and between what's "representation" (reality) and "imagery" (myth, a-la Barthes) using Hollaback Israel as an example. In order to make it really cool, I wanted to ask your permission to use the rubber-glove pretend to be chicken joke, if that's OK.
(I'm not getting a dime for it, but people actually have to buy tickets for the event. And I'm supposed to lecture. Academically. in 12 minutes. And I've been asked to do so, for crying out loud, and been told that the draft is "fucking fantastic").
And now, I'm gonna try and relax in front of the TV with something stupid to watch.