It feels like every time my mother and I start to have a conversation, it turns into an argument. We talk about something as simple as dinner plans and suddenly, my mother will push the conversation into World War III. She’ll complain(±§Ô¹) about my lack of a bright future because I don’t plan to be a doctor. And much to her disappointment, I don’t want to do any job related to science, either. In fact, when I was pushed to say that I planned to major in English and communications, she nearly had a heart attack.