In a tiny room in Nerland Hall, UAF sophomore Paul Rios and freshman Jesse Manchester sling music jokes while constructing a TV stand. "Vocalists are innately sexier than instrumentalists, Paul," Manchester says. Rios is smiling and both are happy for each others' company a day before most freshmen arrive. In the coming weeks, Manchester will throw himself at campus life and leadership opportunities, his room will become the party capital of Moore hall, and he'll dance shirtless at a volleyball game.

Manchester wants people to know he's here to be active. He's eager to become one of the "movers and shakers" of campus. He's already painted up his belly for the UAF vs. UAA volleyball game. It started innocently enough: Manchester stopped in the bathroom to apply a little paint under his eyes, but was taken by the moment to strip his shirt and rub body-paint everywhere. The night was filled with cheers and chants for our girls in blue, most of them started by the shirtless men in the front row.

Manchester came from Wasilla High School, where he excelled in academics and the performing arts. He took a bundle of AP classes and won the UA Scholars award with a 3.8 GPA. "I worked my ass off," he summarized.

He kept busy on the stage, too. His senior year he choreographed a routine for the Wasilla High's competitive dance team, the Crimson Warriors, that would win the state championship. The team was only two years old.

One of the biggest attractions to coming to Fairbanks for Manchester was reuniting with friends. UAF Sophomore Walter DiSarro and Manchester met in high school choir and performed in "South Pacific" together. On Manchester, DiSarro said, "Him and I can run around singing together, and have a great time."

Manchester calls DiSarro his brother, and that's probably because DiSarro was there for him during a difficult time. In Manchester's junior year, he split off from his parents to live alone in Anchorage. He built a new support structure around his friends, and slept in DiSarro's house a lot. They worked together over the summer, set netting in Egegik, Alaska.

Set netting is "not for the weak of heart," according to Manchester. "But definitely the experience of a lifetime." He spent six to eight weeks on the cold bluff that defines the city of Egegik, living in a small cabin with DiSarro. They had a generator for their basic needs of DVDs and video games, but everything else was pioneer living. They sold their fish like merchants to the processing men who would prepare the harvest for shipment to exotic locales all over the world. "We worked until the silvers came, which is a fisherman term," Manchester said.

He didn't want to talk about why he left his parents, but it's clear he's resolved deeply to not let it hold him back. That sort of drive will come in handy for self-directed college education. He's looking forward to classes, singing in choir and a new job. He's undeclared now, but has considered theater, justice or civil engineering as possible majors.

You'll probably see Manchester around campus. He doesn't come off as a razor-sharp goal-completing machine. He's just a kid who's fun to hang around. He's quick to smile and introduce himself, quicker to burst into song or show off some dance moves. Keep your eye on Jesse Manchester, he's sort of a big deal.