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Indeed when rainbows aren't enuf

Having read for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf for my theater class, I have a feeling of being understood, yet not quite. I think that I like this play, but I haven't gotten exactly what it is that I like about it. Although I am not "colored," I realize that I too enjoy expressing myself through dancing without abandon and talking to someone I keep a secret inside my mind. BUT. That can't be it. This play, as difficult I have found it to read, has got something that I, I dunno, want to nod my head in agreement to. Is it a female thing? I almost said "a woman thing," but honestly, I don't feel as if I could be described as a woman. (I've already had the what really determines when a girl becomes a woman? debate with some of my friends before - so far... menstruation? virginity-or lack thereof?)

SUBTLE SEGWAY

I want to eat, breathe, and sleep rice when I go back home for spring break. Sweet, fragrant white rice, steaming as I scoop it out of the cooker with a bamboo spatula. Seeped in the broth of whatever dishes au jour. Salivating like Homer Simpson would at Krusty burgers, at the moment. Until then, I guess.
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