I’m home. I’ve been home for four weeks now. In that time I haven’t taken a mind’s moment to map out what is going on. Or what about what just happened? All three years of it.
Then I heard this song. Then I read the lyrics. Then I saw she has a new album coming soon. And a tour.
No where to go. No where to go.
Is it possible to mourn the loss of something before it has been lost? Because I think I have, or am.
I only wish I had louder speakers.
In Search for a Comprehensive Understanding of Humanitarian Intervention
MA Thesis: Summer 2012 // Utrecht University1. The Right to State Sovereignty versus the Responsibility to Protect A historical framework of self-determination, the international community, and legal interpretations. Part I: Old Frameworks Part II: New Frameworks Part III: Conclusion 2. The Lengthy Adoption and Selective Application of Genocide Law A historical comparison of foreign intervention in Bosnia and Kosovo before the Responsibility to Protect doctrine was created. Part I: The Adoption of Genocide into International Law Part II: Bosnia Part III: Kosovo Part IV: Conclusion 3. 9,000 Dead and Counting Distrust amongst the United Nations Security Council and its effect on present-day Syria. Part I: Institutions and Their Frameworks Part II: Contradicting Interpretations Part III: Permanent Member Relations Part IV: Conclusion 4. Conclusion *I’ve had a few interested in reading the thesis. If you’re one of these (very few), I’d be happy and grateful to share what I’ve learned. I’ll even mail you a paper copy if you request it.
You could peel the wet tights from my skin. My hair could be wrung out to dry. My toes are damp in their squeaky shoes. Yet my sweater has managed to stay warm.
I had breakfast at my favorite bakery this morning. Bakkerswinkel. I then scurried three blocks to make an inquiry about my pending graduation. The office was slow. Quiet. Everyone is resting for the summer. I found a nice lady who told me I must wait for the processing of documents. Have patience.
Two blocks run in reverse. I must work now to pass the time. The library is closed for renovations.
Another run in the rain. Back to my old stomping grounds. I had seven classes in this building. An old, remodeled palace of a great Dutchman who colonized the world. A seaman, naturally. His home has stained glass windows, limited ventilation, and ornate molding on the ceilings. I always hated the narrow staircase. I tripped on it once. Regardless, how the Europeans have mastered the art of old meets modern is something I’ll always admire. To architecturally remember where you came from, though never-ceasing to move forward.
My classes: The first, I thought would never end. The second, the professor told me I was too insecure. The third, my anxiety would do well to take a rest. The middle few, I was on top of the world. The last, I thought I’d fail.
That’s all over now.
Five days ago I received an email from my superior. I need time to let the idea settle. My thesis is approved. It has been accepted with the seal of an A. However, before downloading it to the university archives I want to make a few changes. There are too many parts I still find inadequate. I would redo it in its entirety if I could. If I had the energy. I blush far too often while reading it.
My mind goes back to the first lecture we heard. You can never make it perfect. At some point you just have to walk away. The blueprint on paper will never wholly match the blueprint in my mind.
To stop means it is over. I am not ready for it to be over. It will end no matter.
Why is the completion of a monumental task so emotional for me? I find it painful. The ache my heart feels is greater than the loss of any past love.
Though for once in my state of anguish, I do not feel like sleeping it away. I feel like letting every inch of sadness and exhaustion bleed through me. I want to understand this state. To know it, so that it may be properly stored. To never forget the series of moments from apprehension tangled in self-doubt, to reaching accomplishment with pride, and to the ever fearful yet consistently faithful, now what.
It’s raining, I’m soaked completely through and feel grieved it has to be this way.
I completed my last final review of bibliography and footnotes. All looks uniform and accounted for. I’ll submit the first final draft on Monday. The professor will give it a read though, make comments and return it for changes to be made. But until then…
and I’ll spend it in Italy.
There was a Bulgarian folk singing group in my village.
This is what they sounded like, but with a trendy twist.
There is no greater antithesis to my personality than writing a bibliography.
Concluding through Consistency with Detail.