Mama told me not to build castles in the air, but of bricks. She was the one who constantly pushed me forward and stirred me to strive to be the best that I can. In the countless times that things went south and continued to fall apart, there she was, a wonder woman standing by my side swift to shield every unwilling part of me from the falling debris. She was there in each tear that was about to trickle or a smile that was about to break into laughter. She was there where superman failed to show and when any other superhero fell short to save.

Unlike Papa whose character could be likened to a silent harp, Mama harps her subterranean emotions out. The day when she defended my older brother from a wrongdoing and said how much she loves both of us and shed a tear afterwards, I cried with her.

Numbers and complex solutions fuel me. I crave mind-boggling formulas and mathematical theories. I go where Pythagoras, Des Cartes and Pascal abound. These are the reasons I love the engineering profession.

I never liked the teaching profession. When mom advised me to get a degree in education and be a teacher, I retorted in complete disagreement, “Send me to an engineering school, and I’d make you proud!”

In my country, pursuing a degree in education is the cheapest and the easiest in town. Borderline students or even those below the intellectually deficient category, most often than not, would go for the degree. Only a few would take up engineering or medical courses.