My mom just knows I'm crazy

I impersonated Hannah Montana for my middle school talent show.

I did not win the talent show, in part because I was running the talent show, but I will always remember this performance as a big moment of discovery for my mom: she knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I was truly crazy.

I do not say crazy as in, “cool” crazy, as in, “Oh Lawrence, what a fun, crazy fool!” I mean crazy as in, “Your brain is missing a few bolts,” and, “…wait, where’s your safety valve? Every brain is supposed to come with a safety valve. Ugh, just go consult the instruction manual. You lost your instruction manual? You never got one?!”

I get these manic, visceral, fantasy-like ideas into my head and then I don’t think for two seconds before doing them. Sometimes they’re interesting, other times they’re really lame. I don’t consult anyone—I jump and take the risk alone, for better or worse. Ultimately, I am happy most of all that my mom not only understands this about my personality, but that she supports it and loves me for it now.

During Parent’s Weekend, my mom helped me film this pumpkin music video, “I’m Chillin’ in a Pumpkin Patch”. She not only filmed me performing at a public pumpkin patch, but also bought props with me for the video, including pumpkin ale I needed to pour all over myself and Jack Daniels for me to waterfall into an open pumpkin to then consume with a silly straw, which she also bought with me. All of this for an internet video for the whole world to see. But now at 21, having been performing and taking risks with my art for 7 years, my parents like my work and trust my judgment and instincts. This was the first time my mom and I worked on a singular project together and seeing how open and excited she was to all of my whack-job ideas overwhelmed me.

I can remember, back in middle school, that both my mother and my student government adviser helping me run the talent show were wholly mortified by the idea of me dressing in drag and performing a Hannah Montana song for the whole school. Kids will make fun of him. However, today, I wear neon headbands, run fake campaigns and upload videos of me pouring frozen yogurt in my hands and slamming it into my face. I see the visual of me pouring whiskey into a pumpkin and drinking it with a silly straw and know I need to make a rap video. That’s who I am, and thinking about how far both my parents have gone from being nervous with the actions of “middle school me” to their excitement with my actions now, makes me smile.

Do you have singular moments that, looking back, completely indicate who you are as a person? How did you feel in those moments discovering those parts of yourself? How did your family respond?

I am happy that my mom not only understood my eccentricities with the project, but she celebrated them. I don’t need to explain why I have these ideas and why I have to do them. My mom just knows I’m crazy.

Rence Nemeh is a Trinity senior. His column runs every other Friday.