I’m actually typing this on my iPhone, because I had to send in my beloved MacBook Pro to have its fan replaced.   I first discovered something was up when my usual torrenting of whichever Gilmore Girls season I didn’t yet have was accompanied by the sound of a tractor driving into the blades of a jet engine.  I know enough about Rory Gilmore to know that’s not normal.  Never fear, AppleCare was there to pick up the repair tab.

The Ambassador’s Theatre Group coupled with lastminute.com meant I went to see New Boy with Nicholas Hoult (Trafalgar Studios), I went to see La Cage Aux Folles starring Graham Norton (Playhouse Theatre, Northumberland Avenue) and I finally went to see On The Waterfront starring Stephen Berkoff (Theatre Royal, Haymarket).  I also hung around the Stage Door at each theatre like a groupie, collecting autographs like a seasoned fan. After studying Berkoff’s work during my A2 Drama & Theatre Studies syllabus, it was quite an experience to meet somewhat of a textbook idol.

Mr. Hoult, also known as thatguyfromskinsyouknowtheonewhat’shisnameohmygodTonythat’sit, was annoyingly charming. I’m just jealous.  I was a little disappointed with the production, though, which was in a tiny, tiny studio, showcasing none of the classical theatre-acting traits I wanted to see the actors cope with.

Mr. Norton was a bit smaller than I anticipated (although not as short as when I met Dawn French), yet my mum still managed to compliment the lead actor on his ‘lovely legs’, of which we saw a lot during the performance, seeing as there was a lot of drag-queen activity involved.

Mr. Berkoff casually dresses in oddly ghetto-subculture attire.  Think slack trousers and a large gold gangster hoodie. He also drives a Volkswagen Beetle.  I found this all so surprising that I missed out on an obvious Metamorphosis-jibe about his choice of vehicle.

No, actually, my night-time London pursuits didn’t stop there. I also went clubbing at 54London‘s Commercial Street venue, on one of their monthly Light nights.  That just sounds like another set  of buzzwords, doesn’t it?  To be honest, you’re probably right.  Along with two friends (Sahar & Morgan), I was there from 11pm until about 7:15am.  We’d had dinner and been to the pub beforehand, so by the time it came to leaving the venue, we were pretty worse for wear.  Not to mention Morgan and I were a little sick of the last-gasp attempts for the sexuality-questionable 95% male population of the venue to locate a breakfast mate.

The shock to the system upon seeing the bright light of day and hearing the sudden absence of a DJ in London’s East End meant it was probably time to go home.  Walking with Sahar to Aldgate East tube station, Morgan and I decided we were hungry.  Not realising that it was now 7.30 in the morning, we walked down the entire length of Mile End Road.  To find nothing open but ‘Billy’s 24hr…’ roadside shack.  Morgan chanced a ‘survivor bap’ from this one-man-stand while I decided I wasn’t that peckish after all.  The good news is that Morgan hasn’t got E.Coli. Yet.

Oh, and in a fit of SURHUL-inspired despair, we sort of broke into Queen Mary, University of London’s campus and tried to get into their spankingly-pretty Students’ Union building.  It was locked.  Now time to go our separate ways, I found that there were even fewer services operating on Sunday morning from Mile End than there were from Aldgate East almost an hour previously.  With my hatred in Transport for London renewed, sitting on the red-eyed Tube with various other shameful ‘shouldn’t-be-up-this-early-in-the-morning-normally-don’t-ask-me-where-I’ve-been’ citizens, that was the end of another chapter.

With some thrilling sights posted to Flickr entitled In which I discover the early-morning East End, (all ofwhich seemed far more fascinating at the time) and the everlasting quest to reach a photo-a-day in How I Spent April 2009,  I can safely say I don’t really want to post something this long from the iPhone WordPress client ever again.  Proofreading was…problematic.  Twitter‘s certainly on to something with a 140 character limit.

Sitting alone in the flat seems to be a habit of mine, and I’m still no sure whether I’m an agoraphobic sociopath or just plain lazy.  Let’s hope it’s the latter, eh?  Yeah, that’ll be it.  Probably.  Oo-err.

SURHUL have had another elections season, this time for the Executive Committee.  Politics, at even the base student level, simply exposes the fallacies of a finite term in any office.  Student volunteers in a part-time position for less than one solid year?  There’s going to be little ‘change we can believe in‘ at Royal Holloway.  Prove me wrong! (Please?)

Oh, our Principal has resigned.  Did you hear that?  No surprise, most of my student brethren are apathetic, or didn’t even know who the Principal was in the first place.  Either Egham is a black hole of activism or I’m just plugged in to everything to avoid my degree – oh, that’ll be it.  Nick Stylianou, the information sponge?

The end of term – this mean’s I’ve submitted all of my essays and now look forward to three exams in April/May.  Wonderful.  Seeing as my timed essays were slightly better than mediocre (i.e. suitable enough to pass the year), glorious complacency will no doubt set in.  I’m looking forward to the last-minute stress overload.  “Fuck it, 40%” seems to be the 2009 mantra.

So now I’m officially Editor of the SURHUL Publication for a year.  Let’s see what this new chapter has in store for me, shall we?  It’ll give me a bit more to do than sporadic theatre trips, wishing I was abroad while constantly refreshing lastminute.com flights and trundling around the Guildford/Godalming area in Fifi listening to Fall Out Boy.  I’ll be ringing up print companies for quotes, firing up Adobe InDesign, replying to bizarre press releases and begging for interviews and free tickets.

You probably skipped over the bizarre press releases bit.  Oh, Nick, he’s always exaggerating. No, really, among all the NUS statements, new music circulars, occasional DVD screeners, I received a press release about ‘condoms for dogs’.  Mmhmm.

Condoms.  For dogs.

Needless to say, I deleted it, but not immediately.  It required further investigation.  Sadly, it didn’t garner any adequate responses.  Do you have to apply it to the dog when it becomes aroused?  Do you have to play ‘wingman’ to your dog when he’s out on the pull, diving in when he’s just about to get his little doggy-groove on to suppress that unwanted puppy pregnancy?  Or do you staple this contraption permanently on your canine friend, producing horrifically explosive and unimaginable retrograde results?

These aren’t questions that keep me up at night, thank God.

I can always rely on my hobbies to nicely tick over and aid my time-wasting:  I’m still taking a photo a day, which surprises even myself sometimes.  I’m occasionally getting up in the morning and even the weather’s brightening up.  I’m definitely having some sort of identity crisis….

This is what I’m doing at any one time.  But for now,  I’ve got to pack my car up to go home.  Three weeks of MarioKart Wii-playing a-hoy!  I will beat you.  Waluigi is a master of karting disaster.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

But what about now?  Sure, I’m not old, and I don’t hate going out.  That’d be absurd!  Don’t jump to conclusions, now.

I think I’ve realised that I’m now glad of the time to relax at the weekend.  I’ve just woken up.  In the afternoon.  And it feels great.  I’m not worried: when time is stretched out, when you’ve got control of your own [more often than not: expansively free, 21st century student] timetable it all seems so much more manageable.  But you know what?  I’ve got some of those same commitments.

Yes, I take on responsibilities and obligations that I don’t have to.  Sure, people might think I spread myself a bit too thin.  Yes,  I hardly live the party-hard student lifestyle and yes, I don’t have a real job (yet).  But my course, my SURHUL stuff…it all adds up, and my calendar tends to get pretty busy pretty quick.

I don’t think I’m explaining it very well.  Pop psychology?  Go on, then.  Nicholas enjoys the weekend because it allows him to regain a small amount of control (feeding his egomania) that he hypocritically enjoys losing during the week (so as to allow excuses for his underperformance).  His adaptation to university lifestyle results in him noticing and musing on changes in his behaviour and reflections on the world, especially when he feels that his head might explode due to exponentially-increasing stress.  Honey, life ain’t easy: that’s lesson one.

When things get on top of you, it’s nice to know there are still those two days in a week that you can do what you want with.

I think I need to reboot, restart and

This Saturday, I’m going to have to write my assessed essays, prepare for my seminars, freak out about my exams, plan for editing the SU publication next year (including revamps to administration, marketing and publishing the thing), plan the radio show, take my photo for the day and maybe get some more sleep not going to change out of my pyjamas.  I’m going to catch up on TV programmes from my Slingbox.  I’m going to eat ready meals and chocolate.  Not necessarily in that order.  And I won’t be in a bad mood come Sunday.  I promise.

I told you I’ve been horrendously busy, so a quick recap?  I got a few poorly-written essays back, with poor marks.  I went to Societies’ Ball.  I didn’t win either of the two awards I was nominated for.  I didn’t have a very good evening.  I resigned from The Founder.

Why?  Because I decided to climb that greasy pole. Sure, it sounds like I haven’t had a good few weeks.  Whinge whinge, moan moan.

It’s been SURHUL elections season.

I ran for SU Publication Editor, commonly referred to as Editor of The Orbital.  I won.

Through stress and strain, with the help of a faithfully lovely set of campaign aides, canvassing in the freezing cold and snow, I won.

After Candidates’ Question Time, being grilled more than flaming beef, I won.

I was uncontested, but I didn’t want to seem arrogant, so I campaigned hard.  I didn’t enter the elections to gain power or accolade.  I wanted to change the SU publication into something better.  And restore faith to something I felt had massive potential.  I put my heart and soul into my speech for Candidates’ Question Time.  Maybe I didn’t smile enough.  Maybe I was too stern.  I was worried about portraying myself badly.  I think, unnaturally, I was tense.  Not nervous, just tense.  I didn’t repeat my manifesto verbatim – copies were available at the ballot boxes, online and on request.  I worked hard on something which was mine and which was much more importantly honest.

Being Orbital Editor is more than just being any society president.  It also encompasses being the editor of the Student’s Union Publication. That’s not only a role encompassing commitment and professionalism, but it also requires a much larger responsibility to all the students of Royal Holloway: (and that’s) trust.

The editor of the Guardian on its 100th birthday, CP Scott, famously wrote ‘comment is free, but facts are sacred’.
It’s that trust which needs to be upheld by whoever is chosen as editor, and for our facts to be relevant to an audience of over 8 000 students.  We need to understand and respond to the basic premise of campus media in the first place. Without a relevant publication, the publication ceases to exist.

Informing students in the best way possible may encompass a variety of formats and opinions, but it is imperative that we get a fundamentally coherent message across campus.

We’ve got a moral duty to deliver necessary information (and viewpoints) on which you can make a range of decisions about your union; as well as maintain a material existence.  The editor must operate both sides of the publication’s activity: it costs money to print, so I’ve got to make sure I can manage that. The trick is to find unity between the business and the message.  I feel I have the required skills to handle such a task, with valuable experience in enterprise and journalism.

The publication is, as Mr. Scott states: ‘an institution’.  It reflects and influences the life of a whole community – our community.
I want an informative Orbital:  the overwhelming majority of students I spoke to today look elsewhere to find out what’s happening on campus – that’s not just news, but reviews and opinion, too.

I want to improve how it’s running at the moment: online and in print.

But above all, I want to inspire students to read, write for and be proud of your publication. It is your publication. But I can’t start without gaining your trust.

But the lesson I’ve learned from this election season?  That I don’t like pigeon-holing.  I don’t like being categorised, or second-guessed.  I’m not just ‘that guy who doesn’t write for The Orbital’ or ‘that guy who’s clearly a new version of x’ or even ‘that arrogant wanker’.  My public persona takes a lot out of me.

Maybe it’s too much of Freud’s The Uncanny.  Or maybe I’m having an identity crisis?  I suppose if I knew certainly who I am, it would make it easier for me to know who I’m not.  How quintessentially adolescent.

This place is a little community.  And the problem with a cyclical little community is that there’s only enough change you can believe in before it all starts to sound the same.  Never mind about equality diversity, I’m talking about politics and sociology.  You’ve only got one chance to allow people to like you or dislike you.  And quite obviously it’s a pity there’s no answer booklet.  Now that’s pressure.  Especially since there’s only a finite amount of people here!

Forever incomplete.  And tomorrow I turn nineteen.  Maybe this time next year I’ll have more answers.  I’ll hopefully have a few successful tries under my belt by then.  And some issues of The Orbital.

Mr. Ahmed G.Wuma
03:23
Dear stylianou

I have been in search of someone with this name “stylianou “, so when I saw your name I was pushed to contact you and see how best we can assist each other. I am mr Ahmed Wuma,i am regional manager of UNITED BANK OF AFRICA GHANA(UBA). I believe it is the wish of God for me to come across you on skype now. I am having an important business discussion I wish to share with you which I believe will interest you because, it is in connection with your last name and you are going to benefit from it.

One Late Shafi stylianou,a citizen of your country had a fixed deposit with my bank in 2004 for 36 calendar months, valued at US$18,400,000.00 (Eighteen Million, Four Hundred Thousand US Dollars) the due date for this deposit contract was this 16 of January 2007. Sadly Shafi was among the death victims in the May 26 2006 Earthquake disaster in Jawa, Indonesia that killed over 5,000 people. Shafi was in Indonesia on a business trip and that was how he met his end.

My bank management is yet to know about his death, I knew about it because he was my friend and I am his account officer. He did not mention any Next of Kin/ Heir when the account was opened, and he Shafi was not married and no children. Last week my Bank Management requested that should give instructions on what to do about his funds, if to renew the contract.

I know this will happen and that is why I have been looking for a means to handle the situation, because if my Bank Directors happens to know that he is dead and do not have any Heir, they will take the funds for their personal use, so I don’t want such to happen. That was why when I saw your last name I was happy and I am now seeking your co-operation to present you as Next of Kin/ Heir to the account, since you have the same last name with him and my bank head quarters will release the account to you. There is no risk involved; the transaction will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of law.

It is better that we claim the money, than allowing the Bank Directors to take it, they are rich already. I am not a greedy person, so I am suggesting we share the funds equal, 50/50% to both parties, my share will assist me to start my own company which has been my dream. Let me know your mind on this and please do treat this information as TOP SECRET. We shall go over the details once I receive your urgent response strictly through my personal email address, sulekawumareply@gmail.com

We can as well discuss this on phone; Mobile:+233-245-777-228. Have a nice day and God bless.

Anticipating your communication.
Ahmed Wuma

Gotta love Skype.

While we’re on the subject of wasting time: does writing non-descript unorthodox post-emo, post-modern poetry as procrastination from pending pieces of work count as an activity?

(Available on request.  A 500-word mini-thesis on “Why I should receive your poetry” should be sent to the usual address)

This term is spiralling out of control – I’m so horrifically busy I haven’t been able to make half the trips to see friends I’ve wanted to.  And that’s even taking into account the time I gain during the week-end, aptly coined The Holloway Exodus.

Am I in love with university, yet?  Give me a couple of weeks:  I’ll let you know by my birthday.  I’m undecided on the small-community spirit being a good thing or a bad thing.  Getting involved is great, getting misheard through the grapevine is less so.  Everyone’s nice, but you can’t avoid getting a preconceived opinion based on pure hearsay.  For a man who wants to work in the media, it’s occasionally frustrating to see not enough genuine communication taking place.

My to-do list is also multiplying exponentially. At some point I’ve also got to find a house and some housemates in this small town. But for now, I’m cutting through the mess by posting to Twitter; providing the world with bite-sized nuggets of self-absorbed content influenced by what I’m listening to, what I’m avoiding, or simply what I’m just trying to fill my head with.  Cor, I’m just a laugh riot.

I swear, I have a life.  A relatively normal one.  Outside of the internet, honest.  I just don’t know when to stop.

Mr. Wuma, I put this to you:  Can a man such as yourself prove to me that this is not of some sort of egoistical manufacture? If you are indeed employing the values of ethical altruism then surely a 50/50 split would be in both of our self-interests? Idealistically speaking, the reasons you are contacting me are false, and therefore your irrelevant claim of philanthropy would actually indicate a more communist theme – but how do you know I am not already rich?  Furthermore, to reinvest our newly-found funds in free-market capitalism would prove contradictory, leaving us in some odd pseudo-socialist limbo, wouldn’t you agree? It is for these reasons I cannot accept your offer without further ethical, moral and political counsel.  Apologies for the discourse, but I feel it is necessary to furthering our ‘important business discussion’.

Mr. Ahmed G.Wuma
04:17
you sound great my dear
well can i have your email address so i can furnish you more details about me and the fund

As soon as you can ‘furnish’ my questions, you can have my e-mail address.  Then again, maybe not.

“I’ve had better”.  That’s a phrase I’ve uttered numerous times since I’ve been back at university.  In case anyone thinks I was being my usual coy (read: cryptically, annoyingly-closed) self, it’s because my dad spent most of the winter break in hospital.  I think I was entitled to be a small misery guts, mmkay?  Christmas Day, however, was one of the few days which passed without a hitch. Congratulations to Team Stylianou!

So, to further elaborate on going home properly for the first time in many weeks: no washing up, no macaroni cheese ready meals….the ability to drive into Guildford town centre whenever I wanted…it was student bliss.

I’ve got a packed 2009, though.  After spending a New Year’s Eve with a select three friends and my mother (and my Wii), I decided I’d take at least one photo for every day of the new year.  A daunting, perhaps clichéd task?  Well, my reasoning was that it would force me to not only become horrifically familiar with my dSLR, but also seize control of my days and actually…do something. Eating and sleeping is now permanently fixed in my timetable, not an optional module for my time.  Not forgetting that I plan to merge the term ‘get involved’ and ‘Student’s Union’ to a new extreme.  From my QMUL visit to a Taboo party in Egham, my plan has worked so far.

Having said that my year was to be busy, campus is as dull as ever.  This greatly disappoints me.  Although I’m busy Monday-Friday with my course and various SU commitments, the amount of people who have left by 7pm on a Friday is tragic.  I’ve had an all-time high of three people (including myself) who have stayed the weekend in a flat of eight.  To take that average and place it in context, that’s roughly 37% of people who stay on campus and in Egham at the weekends. Ridiculous!  A new term would surely bring a change to this – we’re settled in, we’ve made friends.  Why, essentially, do people feel the need to commute to university if they have a place on campus!  I’m sorry, but this gets me riled up.  So much so, that I’m sitting in my flat, watching my home Sky+ streaming from my Slingbox.  Actually, that’s not too bad…

Check in to my flickr account, have a look at my eclectic(ly embarrassing) last.fm charts and hopefully I’ll be back more often with some personal gonzo journalism. I also accept unannounced campus visits, invitations to other universities and [love] letters.  This term?  I’m going to have a better one.

Okay.

I’ve had my last A-level exam, I’ve returned (most) of my books, we’ve had the leavers’ ceremony, we’ve been to the pub with our teachers afterwards. I’m a little numb from it all, really.  Apart from the yearbook and the OG tie..we’ve only got our own memories and anecdotes.  Seven years. It’s a long time.  For our leavers’ statement (which wasn’t even included in my pack), I mashed up my personal yearbook entry and my UCAS statement, cobbling together an irony-tinged last-minute bit of prose, written at some ungodly hour the night before two and a half weeks after the deadline:

A seven-year relationship is difficult to summarise, let-alone forget, and as with all experiences there have been ups and downs.  At times my patience has most definitely been strained due to my insistence on seeking out extra-curricular activities to occupy my time:  with Amnesty, hosting the Charity Gigs, Young Enterprise, Schools Without Walls, the House Reading competition (unbeaten 5 years in a row…), countless school plays and the Junior Drama Society among others, I’ve certainly been kept busy – and away from the sports field!  Although I may lack a legacy, I certainly know my liason with the RGS will stay with me forever.  I may have occasionally let the pressure overwhelm my emotions, but if you don’t crack the shell, you can’t eat the nut.

I hope the RGS will miss me as much as I will miss it – take from that what you want!  Nevertheless, I’ve made some friends I hope I shall never lose contact with, certainly my time on Facebook to the detriment of my work has seen to that!  Whether or not the school has made me who I am is left open to debate, and I’m sure I will have to fend off the stigma of being a ‘posh Surrey private school ****’ all my life, but I certainly wouldn’t have been content to go anywhere else.

With my A2 grades, my leaver’s hoody and my yearbook, my year is finally at an end, and I shall walk out of the RGS gates for the final time, free from the daily grind that, dare I say it, brought an enjoyable, community-feel to the centre of Guildford. What do I do now? Well, I hope to study English at RHUL, with aspirations of becoming a broadcast journalist   As Tom Stoppard said in a 1988 Guardian interview – “I still believe that if your aim is to change the world, journalism is a more immediate short-term weapon”.

To try and stem the tide of sentimental emotions and the inevitable “what am I doing with my life?”/”I’ve-made-all-the-wrong-university-decisions-and-achieved-nothing” breakdowns, I’ve been to A Midsummer Night’s Dream post-exams party, a Superheroes-themed party…

I got invited to Centre Court at Wimbledon (debenture seats – thanks Tim & Mr. Scott!) to test out my new camera, eat strawberries and cream, watch Djokovic get knocked out and Federer beat Soderling… and now I’m packing to go inter-railing with these people for three weeks.   Oh, and I fixed my iPod by uploading 13368 songs individually to target the problem. Yay!  In case you didn’t catch the embedded link, you go here for updates now.

It’s a hard life, eh?

Actually, I’m knackered.  And so is my bank balance.