A Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Waste: A Work in Progress

By Mary B. Sinclair

My book is a comedy and a social satire about how everyone starts out idealistically chomping at the bit to use their mind to the fullest. (A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste after all according to that Old School Traditional philosophy.) But after a while it sooner or later dawns on most everyone that what they are really doing is wasting their mind anyway. (Not only because no one ever LISTENS, but because nothing works the way it has been talked up).

Its an up close and personal picture of how it feels when life throws you a curved ball (or a lot of lemons from which you have to figure out how to make lemonade). Its an emotional snapshot of how traumatic it is when nothing works out the way you once thought it would. When all those wonderful ideas and oh, so compelling words and theories cease to make any sense.

But, rather than offering the reader a roadmap, it attempts to give an explanation for why nothing ever works. And how it feels to spin your wheels when your back is to the wall. And youre neck and neck with all those nasty, infuriating unmentionables centering around all that social control.

Along with the downside, however, there is an equal and opposite upside. The world of Songs (and Poetry) is held up as a guiding principle through which to regain your spiritual balance, gradually become unstuck and once again able to reboot yourself in a new direction.

Its also much more than a blame yourself for everything and get out of your own way guilt trip since it rejects all those simplistic clich solutions found in Psychology books. Attempting instead to give the reader a much more focused insight into all those hard to put into words political, social and philosophical outside forces that affect why and how things can (and do) go wrong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479772582

Mary B. Sinclair

I was born in Ossipee, New Hampshire on September 15, 1942, but I have lived all my life in Boston, Massachusetts. I graduated from Roxbury Community College with an Associates Degree in Word Processing. I also received a B.A. in English from UMass, Boston in 2001. Currently I am attending UMass, Boston as a graduate student. I have an Author Central Page on Amazon. My URL is amazon.com/author/marysinclair

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Copyright © 2013 by Mary B. Sinclair.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4797-7257-5

                Ebook           978-1-4797-7258-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 04/26/2013

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I want to dedicate A Mind Is A Terrible Thing to Waste: A Work in Progress to my wonderful father, Thomas John Sinclair. A longshoreman by profession (my mother’s euphemized version was Stevedore), he was born in Newfoundland and fought in the English army for the Queen.

My father’s mother was Irish, his father Scotch and he used to always call me Bridgie, his pet version of my middle name (Bridget). The background on all this is as follows. When I was born, my mother and father had a fight. My mother wanted to name me for HER mother (Leonie!) and my father wanted to name me for HIS mother (Bridget!).

So my mother came up with a compromise, and named me after the Blessed Virgin (Mary).

My father, however, never fully accepted that I hadn’t been named Bridget after HIS mother. (My father had a stubborn streak that refused to accept my mother’s compromise. It was kind of a household joke!).

And I had mixed feelings about all this. I hated the name Bridget which reminded me of an Irish washerwoman. (On the other hand, if I had been named after the French version, "Brigette"—as in Brigette Bardot—I probably would have jumped at the chance!).

My father had another pet name for me as well, "Unconscious." (His way of letting me know I wasn’t tuned in to—and paying attention to—what he thought I should be). Right before he died (and I could never forget it), he said, Bridgie hates me. (He thought I hated him because he called me Unconscious).

But I understood. The world (and all those dishonest worldly values) came between us. (As it does with everyone). Exerted a tremendous pressure on him—causing him to blame himself excessively. (It was his way of letting me know that he knew he had taken at least some of that out on me).

(One important point I make in my book is how song philosophy gives a better perspective on how worldly control pushes your buttons, gets you to blame yourself and indirectly or subconsciously take it out on other people, even those you love dearly). And, in this way, song philosophy helps people heal.

And I want to respond to my father now (long after his death!) in a way that I never had the chance to do while he was still alive. "No, Daddy, I don’t hate you at all. I never could no matter what you said to me. I love you forever, I always have and I always will."

You were—and always will be—my ultimate hero. No one could ever take your place in my soul. (And, along with that, I know what the world—and all those horrible, too greedy, atheistic and too materialistic worldly values—tried to do to you, but it never took root in my mind, and never would).

A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste: A Work In Progress is dedicated to my wonderful, irreplaceable father, Thomas John Sinclair.

A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste: A Work In Progress

is dedicated to my wonderful, irreplaceable father,

Thomas John Sinclair.

"A mind is a terrible thing to waste."

Since she was knee high to a grasshopper, Gretchen had been weaned on that advice. Everywhere she looked (when she was much younger), that message had held a prominent place in mainstream institutions of higher learning where Gretchen had been employed off and on (through Temp. Agencies) as a Secretary.

And had seen it posted time after time on bulletin board after bulletin board.

All those Old School Traditional bulletin boards of yesterday with endless postings from the Central Office (or Ivory Tower) of Academia. An Academia that, Gretchen had learned much later, used students as revolving door commodities for its own profit, forcing them to pay unconscionably high tuition rates for the privilege of being exploited.

For the privilege of writing paper after paper asking question after question about social problems (and issues) that never really went away. If you questioned this agenda, however, the response was always: "It’s enough to be aware of it." And that was just it. To Gretchen it wasn’t enough just to be aware of it.

Instead of raising tuition higher and higher, Academia itself should, on some level, put its money where its mouth was. But, in spite of all those endless questions, that never happened. The world never changed: it was always business as usual.

But that was getting way ahead of the story.

"A mind is a terrible thing to waste implied (in a good natured way of course) that if you wasted your mind," it was nobody’s fault but your own. If you tried hard enough, on the other hand, the world was your oyster. The world was essentially democratic and that old truism, "effort is rewarded" applied to everyone.

Which meant, of course, that there was (or maybe it meant should be) opportunity galore and a level playing field for anyone willing to work their butt off to get ahead. It meant that everything was in place as much as possible to encourage, foster (and promote) your challenging climb to the top.

And what’s more, the entire world waited with baited breath to find out where you were coming from and what you had to say for yourself. Waited breathlessly for a chance to receive the opportunity (and privilege) of meeting that person you were really meant to be.

And if you were sometimes left out on a limb and all on your own too much, well nobody talked about that. That was neither here nor there, and much better left unsaid.

Because the exhilarating idea of living up to all that wonderful potential (that everyone always said you had!) was so intoxicating, so exciting to think about. And, hypothetically anyway, you could be anything you set your mind to. If you really wanted it and worked your butt off that is.

(Even