statusless stateless

This is not my beautiful house? This is not my beautiful wife? How did I get here?

or: Stateside shenanigans

I tried to apply for a social security card the other day – needed to get a Washington State drivers license, amongst other things, and was told that I had to get an Employment Authorisation Document first. Fill in form number ___, pay some money, wait aaaages, and you’re in. No problems, I’ll just print out the forms and the other bits and pieces I need on my newly-arrived A3 printer, which my electrical engineer buddy (read TurboNerd) assured me will work just fine in the ole US of A.

Nope

So one transformer ordered and delivered, and a day later, I can print! So I can now fill in forms, which require the wisdom of the great oracle ‘internet’ for guidance, given that the accompanying instruction document doesn’t have any recommendation on what to do if you’re someone applying with my type of visa. Lucky plenty of other Aussie nerds have encountered this problem, and have written copious documentation.

Sometimes I get the impression that I’m not really in America. From the comfy lounge in the Aussie Ghetto, we watch the same American movies and television that we would back home, and decry the political/social climate of ‘The States’ in our usual manner.

It’s a strange place to be in.