I know my mother means well.

But damn, she can be discouraging.

In the world of floating-possible-ideas-for-what-to-do-if-grad-school-is-a-no-go, when I said "Or I might just chuck it all and move to New York and try to make a go of it as an actor," she didn't believe I really meant it. And the reason she didn't believe I really meant it was that she knows how much I hate waiting tables, and she knows how unlikely it is that any given out-of-work actor will suddenly be able to support herself as an actor, and she would have assumed I'd choose something more stable that involved at least health insurance, and she just doesn't want to see me go through what my father's best friend went through for ten years before giving up and getting a job in PR, and -- my god, the woman is the voice of doom!

And it's just a mark of how much I am her child that this conversation set me back as far as it did. Other naysayers, I can brush [edit -- shrug] off. Not Mom. Goddammit.