A Cooking Calamity

I was just looking at my pictures from the Christmas Banquet. It struck me that my hair is a lot shorter now. I feel butch, even though it's still longer than my shoulders. Hey, at least it's not such a pain in the butt anymore. I paid 30$ for that darn haircut, I'd better like it.
Ah, the blahs of January. I don't particually want to look back at my Christmas vacation, since it turned out to be more stress than it was worth. That's a long story and rather personal, so I'll just leave it for now. However, in spite of my reluctance to think back to how I spent my 2 1/2 weeks of respite from school, I don't really want to look forward into the future. I have a feeling that it's going to take all my determination to make it to reading week.
Right now, I feel like a character from a Grisham novel. (I just filed a 10 page, well-researched brief explaining why my medical problems justify my doctor's note that asks that I be exempt from Taylor's ridiculous cafeteria meal plan.) It makes me extremely angry that I have to defend my right to cook my own meals. Yeah, I know that the administration has to make rules... they need to make money too, which I think is their bigger concern anyway... and so they want to make sure that people aren't just trying to get out of buying a meal plan for the heck of it... but I thought that my doctor's note should have convinced them. Do I have to go into disgusting detail about my disorder, my medical history, my personal problems? Why is the word of my doctor just not good enough? I apologize for the sarcasm, but to me they're just putting another nail in their own coffin. I'm sure not going to come back here next year, or ever recommend this school to anyone who is actually serious about pursuing their academic interests.
I'm so bored. I want to go to the library and get a good book to read, but I can't miss my class this afternoon. Also, a friend from last year is coming to visit this afternoon, and I'm looking forward to seeing her. Perhaps I should clean my room so that it's actually decent by the time she gets here. It smells like fish in here, since I cooked myself salmon last night. Tonight I'm having spaghetti. I like cooking a lot. If the yo-yos in administration force me to buy a meal plan, I'll chuck all the meal cards in the garbage and continue to cook for myself. Maybe I'm just as stubborn as they are - I don't really care. Two can play this game.