“Excuse me. Can you get online?” Victor asks the bloke sitting near him.
“Oh yes. No problem”, he replies.
The man then attempts to help Victor by telling him what he needs to do, using too many words spoken far too fast. Victor will not get most of them.
This man wasn’t the first to get online. I saw someone else do so when I got here, and it made no sense to me why he could and I couldn’t, just like Victor.
And, just like Victor, no matter how much I tried to make it work, I remained unable to do so.
I asked someone at the desk, just like Victor did, and they’d said it wasn’t working yet, and even though it made no sense that someone had been able to log on, eventually I stopped trying to.
Without Wi-Fi, the library was a different kind of place.
There was no logical explanation why this was happening, other than to say that were I able to connect, I would probably get distracted by all the things that free Wi-Fi allowed me to do; forum, YouTube, and of course downloading, and with all that on offer, sometimes no writing got done at all.
Victor is annoyed. He grabs his bag and storms off to find out why he cannot log on. I watch all this from the little corner table by the window. Not deciding anything. Not judging. Just watching things unfold. Now that Victor knows someone can log on, it will not be easy to accept what anyone tells him as to why he can’t.
I see Victor a lot; his thoughts can be many, and his mental process not always easy to follow.
So I just watch it all, and write it down, as the bloke again confirms, just as the one I asked did, that he is online and suggests Victor should try sitting in a different location. Exactly the same thing I was told.
Victor gives up. Being online is so important to him, so he will have to go elsewhere, where I may very well see him later.
If I do see him sitting at the little table for two in the corner of the pub, and I arrive and there are no tables free, I will just sit down opposite him without saying a word, open my laptop and log on.
I can’t help watching him though. Earphones in, earphones out, laughing at something, biting his lip. Drinking tea or hot chocolate. He’s in his own world.
The pub is noisy, so earplugs are always firmly in my ears long before I step inside.
Having shown Victor that I will sit at his table, when I am there, alone, and the others are occupied, he now feels he can do the same.
We’ve had a few conversations, and he says he likes to write. I help him go on FB where he’ll be able to share his opinions with others, find an audience, and he likes it. Before doing this he had no connection; never using his laptop to go online because ‘THEY’ would be watching him. Yet he needs a way to engage people as there are so few around here who have the time or the patience to listen to what he might say.
I’ve helped him a few times. He likes to talk to me. So many thoughts. So many ideas.
“Write them down Victor. Write them down!”
And maybe, having now gone through this experience in the library, if I mention that I am unable to connect either, which until I do he won’t assume, I might also happen to say that by accepting things as they are, I used the time to write something I wasn’t even considering before.
He might like to do that too.
“Oh yes. No problem”, he replies.
The man then attempts to help Victor by telling him what he needs to do, using too many words spoken far too fast. Victor will not get most of them.
This man wasn’t the first to get online. I saw someone else do so when I got here, and it made no sense to me why he could and I couldn’t, just like Victor.
And, just like Victor, no matter how much I tried to make it work, I remained unable to do so.
I asked someone at the desk, just like Victor did, and they’d said it wasn’t working yet, and even though it made no sense that someone had been able to log on, eventually I stopped trying to.
Without Wi-Fi, the library was a different kind of place.
There was no logical explanation why this was happening, other than to say that were I able to connect, I would probably get distracted by all the things that free Wi-Fi allowed me to do; forum, YouTube, and of course downloading, and with all that on offer, sometimes no writing got done at all.
Victor is annoyed. He grabs his bag and storms off to find out why he cannot log on. I watch all this from the little corner table by the window. Not deciding anything. Not judging. Just watching things unfold. Now that Victor knows someone can log on, it will not be easy to accept what anyone tells him as to why he can’t.
I see Victor a lot; his thoughts can be many, and his mental process not always easy to follow.
So I just watch it all, and write it down, as the bloke again confirms, just as the one I asked did, that he is online and suggests Victor should try sitting in a different location. Exactly the same thing I was told.
Victor gives up. Being online is so important to him, so he will have to go elsewhere, where I may very well see him later.
If I do see him sitting at the little table for two in the corner of the pub, and I arrive and there are no tables free, I will just sit down opposite him without saying a word, open my laptop and log on.
I can’t help watching him though. Earphones in, earphones out, laughing at something, biting his lip. Drinking tea or hot chocolate. He’s in his own world.
The pub is noisy, so earplugs are always firmly in my ears long before I step inside.
Having shown Victor that I will sit at his table, when I am there, alone, and the others are occupied, he now feels he can do the same.
We’ve had a few conversations, and he says he likes to write. I help him go on FB where he’ll be able to share his opinions with others, find an audience, and he likes it. Before doing this he had no connection; never using his laptop to go online because ‘THEY’ would be watching him. Yet he needs a way to engage people as there are so few around here who have the time or the patience to listen to what he might say.
I’ve helped him a few times. He likes to talk to me. So many thoughts. So many ideas.
“Write them down Victor. Write them down!”
And maybe, having now gone through this experience in the library, if I mention that I am unable to connect either, which until I do he won’t assume, I might also happen to say that by accepting things as they are, I used the time to write something I wasn’t even considering before.
He might like to do that too.
