A Journal of Anthro and Revelations - 1. Batch 38

Log Tuesday 8/17/19 10:33a

I couldn’t help it. I had to get my phone out and write. Finally! Away from Eaton. If I’m being honest, I can’t believe I survived four years of high school in that rat-hole town. No more Ryan, Chris, Guy, and Jordan. Fuck you for tripping me in the hallways, nailing me with dodgeballs, and stealing my homework before class. No more Lacy, Taylor, and Kenzie. Fuck you for chasing me at the sixth-grade dance and rubbing your nasty-ass titties on me. To this day, I blame your asses for why I’m gay. You actually had me running away from boobies.

Now, I’m free. Free from those close-minded twats. Those absolute assholes! I’m even free from Mom and Dad. Completely on my own, with my own set of rules of living. If it weren’t for Grams, I would change my name too. River Martins. I get wanting to have your kid’s name be original, but did it have to sound so hippy-dippy? As always, my grandma has wisdom and told me to keep it. Makes sense. If I ever make it in the industry, my name will remind them of their poor parenting skills. Grams knows how to throw a punch, doesn’t she?

Currently sitting in my dorm parking lot. Move-in day for freshmen. There's people everywhere! It feels surreal being here. When I took a tour with Grams two years ago, I fell in love. Literally, I couldn't ask for anything more. Their art department is top-notch; large studio, a space for carpentry and welding… Don’t get me started on the graphics lab. I’ll be throwing down in there for some commissions. These people on Twitter and Tumblr go nuts for my drawings. Good, that means I get paid more. Who knew a tiny, private college in Tennessee could be this amazing? The campus is only three city blocks, and I can get anywhere in a five-minute walk. Fast-food joints across the street, a big grocery store around the corner…This is going to be awesome!

Well, until I meet my roommate. I don’t know much about him, other than his name’s Gavin. The college gave us contact information, and they matched us since we had similar interests from that survey months ago. From what I remember, I wrote ‘video games’, ‘anime,’ and 'art' in my survey. Not that I do much of anything else. Played tennis for a few years, but only won two matches; one was an absolute fluke, and the other was because the other school team didn’t show up. Hilarious.

I really hope this Gavin Legg guy’s chill. We texted a bit when we got each other’s phone numbers. It was really awkward, let me tell ya what. Two dudes with no biographical information going, "Hey, I guess we'll be living with each other." In hindsight, I should’ve social media-stalked and tried to find him. Still, we worked out who was bringing what. Luckily, my grandma had most of the key essentials: mini-fridge, microwave, and foldable chairs. He, thank you Jesus, had the Switch, PS4, and TV. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be cool with the fact I draw anthro dudes for a living.

He said he got to campus a week early. Something about early check-in, but I’m not going to question it. Maybe he can come help pack this fridge up to the God-damned third floor. And no, there’s no elevator. Fantastic. Guess I should bring up the small stuff first. Be back in a flash.

***

Log who gives a fuck ten minutes later.

Going down the stairwell as I speak. My feet can't go fast enough!

Oh my God, he’s hot. Fuck, he’s really hot! Like, probably not to anyone else, but holy fucking shit! Face looks like a semi-truck hit him, but he has long dreads that swing over his broad shoulders. Damn, his smile turned me into goop. AAHHHHH!!!

He's a football player. Football… Fuck, I don't know a damned thing about football. He’s one of the big guys. You know, the ones that push each other like sumo wrestlers. Thunder thighs. Chonker. Is that the position name? Who cares? He looks like he could eat me like a Slim Jim.

Jesus, here he comes. Damn, he’s got that big boy swagger. Arms swaying, belly bouncing, shit-eating grin on his face.

He just picked up the fridge. He just picked up the fucking fridge like a sack of potatoes. Maybe he can— No! I am not going to think about that! This is going to be a problem. He’s a jock, just like Chris. This dude is going to stuff me in a closet and zip-tie it, I just know it. I'm concerned. Like, really fucking concerned.

Fuck you, college. This was supposed to be my out! Pairing me up with someone who’s going to make my life a living hell, in more ways than one. He’s going to stink, bully me… Fuck! I'll be trapped in a literal cinderblock room with this giant. If he torments me, I'm not sure if anyone will hear me. He’ll probably have a million girls over and bang their boobies into next week, or whatever it is straight people do. I need to figure out how to tie a rope in the room and drape a curtain up.

***

8:35p

Okay. So far, so good. We spent the day arranging the room and my head’s not in a toilet. No lockers to stuff me in either. I mean, there’s the closets but the doors are pretty flimsy. One good kick and I’d be free. The worst thing that happened was getting my ass handed to me in a round of Super Smash. I feel better about being around Gavin knowing he plays as Pikachu and Luigi; competitive, yet silly. It really tells me a lot. Just like when I play Jigglypuff and Fox; tactical and wary… Eh, whatever I can do to learn more about him.

It’s possible I misjudged him. Turns out he’s not a bad guy. He’s actually pretty nice. Chill, just like I hoped. He said he was here on a football scholarship and decided to study business and communications. I can see it. He’s got a smile that’d charm a tiger, and he speaks with confidence. I asked him what kind of business he wants to run, and his ideas are incredible. Small, innovative establishments that will break the mold in today’s society. I really dig his idea for “JC’s,” which is short for “I Just Sell Cheeseburgers.” Small building, plenty of parking, efficient flow for drive-through traffic… and he only sells burgers, fries, and drinks. No nuggs, no salad, no limited-time-only horseshit (his word, not mine)! His only goal is selling a damn-good burger combo and minimizing stress on the employees. No more people drooling as they examine a completely customizable, fifty-item menu. Multi-packs, as well. I about lost it when Gav said he’d sell a six-burger pail called the Burger Bucket. Honestly, I’d buy stock in it.

Once we got everything situated, I went for the snack box Grams made the other day. She loaded this small tote up like a Tetris champion! Cheez-its, four different bags of gummies, Oreos… I asked Gavin if he wanted anything, but he said dinner was being served. I looked around the room, trying to spy said dinner. He laughed at me.

Apparently, the cafeteria here is called the Caf here. Caf? Calf? Caph? College is weird. Great place though. Two daily specialty serving areas and a grillmaster that makes a mean sandwich. Gavin was nice enough to show me the ins and outs of how the staff serves food. I guess when you show up early for football, you also get a sneak peek into the menu. College athletes get treated like royalty, I guess.

Three bites into his meal and I have a feeling Gavin is definitely going to eat me one day. Probably as a midnight snack. This man put away four cheeseburgers and a plate of lasagna, and then went back for more. More importantly, how does the Caf stay in business when it’s all-you-can-eat? So this is why my tuition is so high… Gavin told me to load up, but I was done after a grilled chicken sandwich and some fries. He thought it was just an appetizer. Yikes. Freshman fifteen, here I come.

A couple of his football peeps came and sat with us. I felt nervous like a whore in church next to these dudes! These guys are giants. I mean, I can fit in most overhead bins, but damn!

College really is different than high school. Gavin’s friends wanted to get to know me. Like, actually asked for my name, what I liked to do, and if they could come to our room to play Super Smash. I’ve only been in the dorm for a few hours and word is out that our room is the most decked-out.

So, uh, yeah. Gay boy here just had six beefy men in his room. If only my mother could see me now.

End of log. Gavin’s future protein bar. That came out wrong.

***

Log Wednesday 8/18/19 6:21a

Houston, we have a problem.

Gavin’s alarm went off at 5:30 in the blessed ay-em! It going until I threw my damn pillow at him. I did not anticipate this issue. College athletic program, you're going to be the bane of my education.

Apparently, these 6 am practices happen every weekday morning? What the actual fuck is wrong with these monsters? I am not a morning person. I hate everything about it. The sun, coffee tastes like ass-water, and don’t get me started on those Mayberry “howdy-doo” motherfuckers. I mean, I don’t suppose there’s a better time. Class schedules run into late afternoon, Caf closes at nine, so, yeah, okay, logically the best time to get sweaty is at the ass-crack of dawn. Doesn’t mean I have to like it… and I don’t!

Speaking of ass crack. I’m in love. Man has cake. Donk. Straight-up booty. Sways hypnotically with every lumbering step. And I got a face-full this morning when he bent over to get into his bottom dresser drawer to get a pair of sweatpants. Is it winter yet? He better have them in gray. Let’s hope and pray to God he didn’t notice me pretending to sleep. I kept my eyes on him until he left with his duffel gym bag thing and locked the door behind him. I wasn’t sure if he forgot something so I waited a few minutes before I took care of business.

Eh, college might not be too bad after all.

***

11:27a

Gavin met up for breakfast after his practice. Other than his football buddies, I’m the only friend he’s made so far. At least he’s got that many. Making friends has never been my strong suit. That involves talking to people. With Gavin, I kind of have no choice but to talk to him. He described his practice and workout schedule as we ate, not that I was interested in the subject. All I cared about was picturing a half-naked Gavin pumping iron, among other things. From what I recalled when I was listening, the morning practice is to get the body awake and alert or some shit. Drills, runs, smacking football dummies… Then when the real practice comes later on, he’s ready to lay out somebody.

I must have made a face or something since he accused me of not knowing much about football. When I raised my eyebrow too high, he snorted his milk out of his nose. We grabbed some napkins, and he proceeded to roast me in such a kind and considerate fashion. What a guy. He explained his role on the team but told me we were due for a sports tutoring sesh.

Yep. Sumo wrestler that smacks others. He called it a center, but from the way he described the position, his job is key. To snap the ball perfectly on cue and make sure whatever a queue-bee is gets the ball sounds intense. Once that’s done, he protects the offensive team from getting overrun by the other team. It sounds like a crucial role, but then again, I figure most team members have their own jobs to do.

Just got out of my orientation group. Definitely not the brightest idea to stick all of the same majors together. Thirty artists, real or wannabe, in a room creates a strange miasma of creativity, smugness, and cockiness. I saw a few that had the “my shit comes out with stenciled leaves and roses” look on their faces. The sad part is they’re probably right. I’ll figure out in a few weeks who was capable of producing or doodling. At least I enjoy drawing.

The professor leading our group turned out to be our advisor, Neil Heathers. The amount of student boobage that was adjusted when he walked in the room was palpable. I immediately dismissed him as not my type. Too pretty. Coiffed, blond hair with a black five o’clock shadow, pink and blue pastel flannel, and khaki skinny jeans… What a Ken! I’ll give it to him though; he’s got the spunk and attitude.

Fuck, got a few more minutes of lunch. Will continue later.

***

8:52p

Gavin and I agree on this. College orientation sucks. I think it’s worse than going to 4-H camp. Gav says he’d rather coach elementary football, but I wouldn’t go that far. That… Well, that sounds like actual hell. Little goblins with helmets and shoulder pads, tackling each other, then crying afterward. Jesus…

So, I don’t know what’s up with this guy, but it’s almost like Gav has taken me under his wing. Not that I mind. We were heading back to the dorms after dinner when a group of frat boys tried to recruit us for rush in two weeks. The thought never crossed my mind, but Gav kept us moving. I asked him about them, and he explained what they were about. It sounded wild: heavy drinking, high expectations for academic success, and paying way too much money to have friends. No thanks. I’m not made of money.

Well, I guess I am, but how would these frats know? I still work for my dough. Speaking of, I should hammer out some of these commissions. Trae wants a piece for his original character, Tulska. Yuro paid for his sona to be in a wrestling singlet. Bennie needs something for the Christmas season. *sigh* More drawing, on top of whatever my professors want when the assignments start rolling in. Maybe they can double as pieces for art classes.

Gav actually asked to see some of my work earlier, and I had to dig through my old abstract stuff. I could tell he was impressed, but I’ll hold back on showing him what I actually do. Don’t need a weirded-out roomie. The last thing I need is for him to see one of my lude commission pieces. Anthros and football players probably won't mix.

***

9:21p

UPDATE! I REPEAT, UPDATE! Gav asked if I minded if he took off his shirt. He doesn’t like to sleep in one.

God bless. #freethenipple

Shit’s about to get good. I’m thinking this journal will have a sub-log dedicated to shirtless Gavin. Would be totally fucking worth it. Fuck it. I’m diving in. Supple. Almost succulent. I’m slightly disappointed he’s naturally smooth-chested, but I can not judge. I must take what I am given and be grateful. Honestly, he looks mouth-wateringly tasty. If it didn’t jiggle perfectly when he wore clothing, it certainly jiggles perfectly now. The nipple… Oh, dear Lord, the nipple. So tantalizing and eye-catching. I swear to God, my hand on a Bible, it winked at me. Don’t get me started on that belly overhang…

End of log (journal, that is… Can’t speak for the other log)

***

Log Thursday 8/19/19 8:31p

Fuck. Orientation just got cranked up to eleven. Team-building, ice-breakers, and annoying shit. We have a majors versus majors day tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it. It’s all physical activity. Obstacle course, egg-on-a-spoon race, and tug of war. Gav’s excited but he gets why I’m annoyed. Skinny kid with no muscle mass having to play games in the heat? I’d rather run into Chris in the PE locker room.

On the bright side, Neil took us across the street and treated us to Sonic drinks. He seems like a cool teacher. The bad part is I still haven’t connected with anyone other than Gav. Weird. My best friend in college is a jock. Even some of his teammates are cooler than my orientation class. Rashaad and Matt regularly hang out and play Super Smash with us in our room. Rashaad has no idea what he’s doing, but he has fun, even when I send him flying off the screen.

Honestly, I’m ready for classes to start. I don’t like that I’m getting most of my gen-eds out of the way, but that seems to be the standard for all freshmen. We get one or two major-related courses, but the other three or four are either the core English, science, or math classes. I suppose it’s for the best. Give us a taste of what we’re going for to see if it’s our passion. If only I could submit my 1099 as a confirmation I want to be an art major.

Oh, I neglected to mention that “bring to college” lists are for morons. I bought one of those shower caddies to carry my shampoo and stuff. Now the trash is overflowing with them. They’re useless. There’s nowhere to sit them in the shower stall! Plus, if you set them down on the floor, you’ll be bringing wet crap back to your room. Gross. It’s not like I needed it. I just need to take my three bottles and hope my towel doesn’t fall down in the hall.

***

Log Friday 8/20/19 8:30p

Gav’s getting nosy. He asked why I was typing yesterday, and I explained this journal’s for self-reflection. It helps me discover who I am, what parts of me I can improve on, and whether or not I’m being an absolute lunatic. At least he laughed at the last part. God, that belly jiggle will be the death of me.

He asked if he could play some music while I write and draw. Plenty of R&B and hip-hop. I dig it. As long as he doesn’t blast it loudly, I’m good. He’s playing Call of Duty at the moment. Silent gamer. No throwing controllers, cursing… Hell, he’s not even getting mad at the seven-year-old campers. I’m impressed. I would be switching games. Can't stand those brats.

I guess this is my new time for logging. It fits in my schedule, at least until classes start on Monday.

BRB. Gav says he's hungry, and I am too. Caf had nothing good earlier.

***

10:58p

Gavin and I are going to be great friends.

He loves Taco Bell just as much as I do. We even taught each other something about the menu. I introduced him to their avocado ranch sauce, and he showed me the world of grilled cheese roll-ups. I’ve disrespected those tiny things for far too long. Who needed a steamed tortilla with cheese? Slap that on their grill… and they become perfectly crispy. Now, I’ll be adding two to my order every time I visit the TB. They’re perfect for dipping in sauce!

We discussed fast food and settled that the Bell is top dog in the industry. Everywhere else would come down to the quality of their fries. That was a debate. The best fry required no conversation: Rally’s/Checker’s. The following few… Phew! Our discussion prompted a few other patrons to insert their opinions, but we were on a whole other level. They weren't breaking down the key components to a good fry. Salted, unsalted, crispiness, sustainability in a bag on the way home… Gav and I agreed upon Wendy’s as the silver medal. Their consistency is what sealed the deal. Bronze went to Five Guys for offering both regular and cajun seasoned.

I did discover his breaking point: dissing McDonald’s fries. For a minute, I thought our friendship was over when I placed the famous McFry at the bottom of the tier list. Once I explained my reasoning, he let me back into the proverbial circle. C’mon! They’re never salted, they’re either soggy or overcooked, and there’s never enough of them. I would rather have a Burger King fry, and we all know those are actual trash.

Anyway, I think Gav’s going to be an awesome roomie. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get the TB farts in the middle of the night.

***

Log Saturday 8/21/19 5:02p

For a rinky-dink college, I thought they would have a bit more common sense in their noggins. Apparently not.

The games for the orientation classes were all fine and dandy until tug-of-war was declared. Tournament style between eight of the classes. Again, whose bright idea was it to separate us by majors? Really? Art versus science?

Oh, wait, hang on, hold your horses. It gets better. Three-quarters of the science class were sports players. Football, basketball, softball, tennis, baseball… Because they’re sports nutrition majors, which is science? Fucking what? So imagine thirty of us scrawny artists against thirty jacked-up monsters. Eliminated round one.

At least I got to sit and watch Gavin be the anchor for the business group. He wrapped the rope around himself and dug his heels. Him squatting… God bless America. There was determination in his eyes, and damn… That’s hot. His team won the first few rounds and faced the science jocks in the finals. He tried his hardest, but the match was still lopsided. When he came toward me, I gave him a high-five and commended his effort. I’m not sure if I’ll forget that smile of his.

***

8:30p

Jesus Christ, if Gav doesn’t find a bigger towel, I’m buying one off Amazon. He is hiding nothing! I’m at the point now I believe he’s doing it on purpose. Has he figured out I’m gay? I mean, I don’t broadcast it. I won’t deny it if he asks. It's not that I'm loud and proud, but I'm selective about who gets to know the real me. High school taught me to be a survivalist when it comes to that kind of thing. Tell the wrong person, and… Well, you can imagine.

Have I thought about telling Gavin? Absolutely. Has the thought of Gavin beating me into a pulp come across my mind? Yeah, but I don't think he would. Still, I've only known the guy for a few days. Too soon to tell, both judging him and revealing myself.

Then again, it might be the sportsman in him. They're pretty casual about nudity, right? He might be used to walking around a locker room with nothing but a towel hanging off his Red Bull can. Hmm. That's some good imagery. I should draw…

***

Log Sunday 8/22/19 8:25p

I'm buying him a new towel.

End of log.

Just kidding. Not about the towel. I'm serious about that.

Classes officially start tomorrow, and I'm excited. Some of the upperclassmen football players sat with us and said this place was like a more mature version of high school. There's still cliques, and gossip flies like wildfire. I can't tell if that scares me or not. Still, our room has ended up being the hangout for the football team, especially after I loaded the fridge with assorted sodas and flavored water. Some of the guys are cool. LaDon is fine as hell! He's not Gavin, but man… That guy could sit on my face and smother me with them peaches.

Sidetracked. Who can blame me?

Classes. Got a world geography, a biology, a math, two art, and a sophomore-level English course. Thank God for AP English last year. Takes care of a credit. Turns out, one of the guys that hung out with us, Darren, is also taking that class. He's not a fan of the subject, and I agreed to help him if he needs it. Not my type though; too twunk for my tastes. Not very cuddle-worthy. His biceps are bigger than his nonexistent moobs. Meh.

Sidetracked. Ha! These football guys are different from the ones in high school. If I'm going to be surrounded by them, then I might consider college awesome.

***