The other day, in homeschooling, I walked through the park. I didn't have a particular task to do-just to wander and write, and observe. And I did all three.
Just sitting on a bench to write in the open air, with the first hints of spring about, did that. I managed to finish the scene I was writing, far quicker with the sharpness of the fresh air about me, than I would have done if I was in a classroom. "Doing homework?" one man asked as he walked past with a toddler. I laughed.
Homework was the bane of my life. Work I give myself isn't.
But I know that at some point I'll have to do traditional A-levels. That's fine, up to a point. If I can balance the work in my own way, it's fine. I'd be doing them online, so it's easier. But then, the thing is, can I balance them with my writing, wanting to get back into freelance writing, wanting to set up a Tumblr for something to do with Aspergers?
It's a struggle.
I think at the moment that I'd like to go to university one day, but I don't know. Maybe I'm basing it off a completely unrealistic picture of what university is like. I suppose the thing that worries me most is that I'd get there and have to drop out in a few weeks because of my anxiety. Reading articles and watching videos from people like Alice Oseman about her university experiences both make me more hopeful-that it's not a disaster if you don't go-and a little more apprehensive. Do I want to go to university? Do I not?
Two of the things I've narrowed it down to that I'd probably like to study are Law or Politics. The truth is, there seem to be so many things I want to be, and to try. I'm already a writer. I'm working on getting back into freelance. I'm working on my novel and with Bethany on Doll Hospital. But then I think that one day I'd like to go into political journalism. But law's there in the back of my mind, too. I think I'd find it easier to study either of them than to study English because from what I've heard, English is more about analysing than reading, and whilst I enjoy that, I don't know if I'd want it to take over a whole three-four years.
But I've got to finish my first draft first and then I can think about A-levels.
The other day, in the park, after I finished my scene, I sat reading a chapter. I thought how much better I learn and feel in the open air or even in my bedroom than sitting in a classroom, feeling trapped and uncomfortable, like I couldn't breathe in my school shirts. I watched three dog walkers bump into each other and form a strange, endearing friendship based on the fact they all owned Labradors. I read a chapter of Abela: The Girl Who Saw Lions by Berlie Doherty. I was learning and I was happy.