On Officially Being a (Temporary) Australian Resident

It happened a few days ago. I got the letter in the mail granting me this temporary spouse residency thing. Of course I was happy. Relieved, too, because for 12 months, the appointment to lodge my application for an interdependency visa loomed large and was the hinge upon which life after it would swing. And now it's over.

So what's it all mean? The most important thing is that I can work. Yep. I can be the foreigner that I am trying to get a job in a bad economy. Unfortunately I have to edit for more than food, so here's hoping Sydney has some action for me. It also means that I can visit other countries and come back to this one without being interrogated and searched by customs. I've also now got a Medicare card. It's kinda crazy. I could get sick tomorrow. I mean, really sick with the snot and the blood and maybe even the need for surgery or something. And I could take my handy dandy Medicare card with me and it'll be taken care of. Just like that. Or something resembling that.

In two years, they'll come at me again with a request for more proof that the girl and I are still the girl and I. Once they're satisfied, they'll grant me permanent residency. And if I'm still here three years later, if Meredith isn't yet ready to give the States a go, I'll be able to try for dual citizenship. That's still a long way off.

It's been a tough year, with missing people, adjusting to another country and the strange, somewhat archaic things it does sometimes, and not working. But now that it's after the fact, I wonder at the ease of it all. The relatively simple way in which it all went down. America? Hello? I'm a dyke living with my girlfriend full-time, legally, in her country because mine doesn't have that kind of law. Twelve months here, a little bing, bang, boom, and bam, I'm a resident. In the States, no such luck.

Nevertheless, I'm here. An expat

Yank who's got a soft spot for the game of cricket and is deathly afraid of spiders, both of which are in abundance in this underworld continent. But during this hot Christmas season, I've finally got some legitimacy. Now all I need is a job.