I Ain't Got no Home in this World Anymore.

I had a long day of teaching at the biggest elementary school in town. The kids are mostly great, and the working situation has definitely improved since the teacher-shuffling of April and new-scheduling of May. I even had help from S-Lan, the psuedo-homestay-mother friend/helper that I'm ever so grateful for. Even though things are better (or is it that I've just finally successfully adapted to the requirements of the profession?), it was still a struggle to pull myself through the sixth-period class to be told immediately after that I'm to teach a "Special Day" next Friday, being monitored by other teachers and parents throughout all of my classes. Some days, one can only heave a heavy sigh, continue trudging along, and occassionally give thanks that you find yourself wearing a smile.
Geez, I make it sound like a deathmarch! Christ, it's not all that bad, to be sure.

Honestly, on the way home from work, I was thinking to myself (while riding my bike through the brilliant weather - overcast and cool, a nice respite from the heat or rain) that real life, when I find myself really enjoying it, can bear a striking resemblance to playing videogames. At first Punchout, with it's varying cast of characters, seems impossible - after defeating Glass Joe, that is. There are so many series of punches, dodges and blocks to memorize, a whole new set of attacks to guard against, and new weakness to exploit. And when I find myself enjoying life, it's because I know what sorts of challenges in the day-to-day to expect, and what I need to do when they arise. When a bill arrives, no matter what language it's in, I know how and when to pay it now. When I feel crushed by a thousand chores, I just have to take them one by one and sort them out. The list goes on.

But, of course - and this appears to be some kind of punishment for thinking things aren't so bad, or that maybe I have things figured out for a while - new complications always arise. And inevitably, as I scramble to meet them, I get so nervous and pessimistic. So, as I came home, confident that I know how to shuck and jive this crazy Japanese world of mine, who should reenter to fuck it all up but Uncle Sam; the very man whose company I'm beginning to fear.

That's right, dude. The IRS is after me. Apparently, they've rejected my request to be viewed as a Japanese tax payer, even though it was my primary residence over the last year. Now, it is probably just a misfiling of misunderstanding, but the sheer numbers have me shitting my pants. I owe the U.S. government something in the ballpark of $7,726.72, as of June 8th. Frankly, it's like skipping Piston Honda just to get totally stomped by the man himself, Mike Tyson.

So, now I'm panicking like usual, viewing all my problems at once and feeling overwhelmed. I would be terribly worried about such a large sum of money (which I honestly have no hope of repaying), if it weren't so terribly funny. Things like this always seem to happen to me, and it's a true family trait to be able to shrug it off with a laugh. I mean, do these people honestly think that they'll get that kind of money from me? I knew the government was corrupt and inept, but I didn't realize they were so stupid. So, for once, the joke is on them. ...I wonder if they'd make me do jailtime.

If shit comes to shit, though, I could always just duck into a country like Vietnam for a few months, waiting to extend my period outside the country to whatever limit would satisfy their ridiculous demands. Anyway, for the time being, "Ha-ha-ha."