Chapter 21

Odyssey of the Mind

I find myself reminiscing a lot about my adolescence lately, and I am not entirely sure why that is. Maybe it’s because I am turning 50 this year, which feels like the age at which you are hit with the full realization of just how vast your lived experience has been. Maybe it’s because current fashion trends for the last several years have been a throwback to mid 80s - late 90s style. Maybe it’s because I have been binge watching nostalgic TV, ranging from revisiting season 1 of Twin Peaks to the documentary about Lisa Frank to FX’s Love Story.

Or maybe it’s because I find myself in an existential crisis I never imagined, one in which I am questioning my relationship of the last 18 years, my ability to adapt to change, my willingness to accept a new reality that I never asked for and certainly would never have chosen on my own. Perhaps it is because of this I subsequently start looking backward for either an indication that I was headed this way no matter what, or to escape from this reality by revisiting a time when the future was full of possibilities and life was a lot less complicated. Either way, I am suddenly reminded of random things from my formative years, things I had long since forgotten.

When I was in fifth and sixth grade I competed in Odyssey of the Mind. My involvement was somewhat of a continuation of having been enrolled in the Gifted and Talented program when I was in fourth grade. Fourth grade was my first year attending school in NH. In my Massachusetts elementary school I was considered an average student and was placed in the “middle” level reading and math groups. I have no idea what indicators were present in my school records that made my fourth grade teacher select me along with two others from our class to be enrolled in the program - the two people who ended up being valedictorian and salutatorian of my high school. At least with those kids the signs were there. Maybe he just picked me because he figured “she’s from Massachusetts and they have better schools.”

Odyssey of the Mind is a problem solving competition, with different categories ranging from engineering challenges to historical research to dramatic performance. I always competed in the Performance problem, because I was already involved in drama club and acted in school plays so it felt like a more natural fit than, say, joining the Balsa Wood Structure team.

Teams would spend months involved in after school sessions of planning, designing, building, rehearsing, trouble shooting, all in preparation for competing at the regional event at the conclusion of the season. (The irony that I spent some of the most critical psychosocial developmental years of my childhood involved in competitive creative problem solving as an extra curricular activity is not lost on me, seeing that now one of my maladaptive coping mechanisms when faced with uncomfortable emotions is to dive headfirst into creative problem solving).

There was an additional component of the competition called Spontaneous Problem Solving. Unlike the main focus, Spontaneous Problem Solving was just that - spontaneous. On Competition day, the team was sent into a room and assigned a problem they had never seen before, with a strict time limit to address it. The team would work individually for a set number of minutes, then be allowed to work together for the remained of time. Their results were then judged on creativity.

Practicing spontaneous problem-solving involved working through a series of weekly prompts. I remember one in particular: we were given a single word - chair - and challenged to generate as many synonyms as possible. It was then that I first learned the terms ottoman and hassock, where I had to reconsider what constitutes a chair, and extend my paradigm of ‘chair’ to beyond the basics of desk chairs, living room chairs, recliners, and bean bags. The result of this sort of mental skills practice is that in addition to expanding your vocabulary, you suddenly start evaluating things in your day to day, wondering if they can be repurposed as something to sit on. You log that into your memory, so that next time someone asks for the most creative synonym for a chair, you have an arsenal locked and loaded.

Hammock. Stool. Throne.

The reason this memory was triggered is that I now find myself thinking in a similar vein how many different words include the root word ‘trans’ - a root word that 6 months ago drifted through my lexicon unnoticed. Now it’s like I can’t unsee it.

Transparent. Transformation. Transitory. Transient. Transcontinental. Trans-Atlantic (is that one word or two?) Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Transistor Radio.

Transition.

I also find that my mind has started to play other tricks on me. I was running the other day, and running is one of those times where I can truly get into a meditative state. I turn my brain off and it just wanders. For some reason I found myself thinking about Andie and something she had said recently and I realized that my inner monologue had subconsciously shifted and I was mentally using “her” and “she” instead of “he” and “him.” I make a point to articulate the preferred pronouns publicly when she is around, or if I am speaking with someone who I feel needs to be made aware that Andrea is a She. But privately I had not built the mental muscle memory to do it instinctively, until now.

And yet, there are times I still find myself stuck in the past.

Translation.

As with the pronouns, I now make note of women’s clothes and accessories when I am mindlessly window shopping online, a past time that I engage in as part of my morning coffee wakeup routine. I can’t handle anything significantly demanding in terms of cognitive skills that early in the morning, so for years I have taken to checking out the latest arrivals at various retailers just to see what’s new. Sometimes this would result in impulse buys or discovering a really great deal on some designer item at a significant discount. And whenever I saw things that I thought Andy would look good in, I would order them for him.

These days I make a point of sending her links when I happen upon jeans with an extra long inseam, or shoes that come in her size. And yet - when I scroll through and see menswear items I still have the same reaction of “oh those would fit Andy” or “oh they have Andy’s size.” It’s like my brain is in transition - one part is still thinking of He/Him and the other has moved on to accept She/Her. It has to actively translate what it has always known into a new lexicon, a new paradigm.

Chaise Lounge.

Speaking of chairs - My master bedroom is unusually large, and I knew when I bought the house that I would ultimately end up adding some casual seating to the room.

I have always loved the classic chaise lounge, the ubiquitous fainting couches of the Victorian era and I was convinced I was going to get one for my bedroom. But after much measuring and research I realized that I needed something more modern and sculptural to work with my space. I finally decided on one of those compression cloud sofas from Amazon, the ones that are like a sponge that expands and are relatively inexpensive. I was hesitant that the quality would not be to my liking or that it would look too cheap in my room, but the price was hard to beat so I ordered it. Then I remembered Andie was planning to convert my old office into a “study”—which, in her version, meant a full track racing simulator cockpit and a large screen monitor. So I figured if I ended up hating the sofa, she could put it in there as alternative seating—because when I think “study,” I picture a place to sit and read, not an F1 racing setup.

Transgression

The other night I told her that my sofa was supposed to arrive the next day, and that I would need help getting it upstairs and that I was worried it would not be the right one for my room, and then I said “but hey I figured if I don’t like it, I can just give it to you for your man cave.”

She corrected me. “It’s not a man cave.”

I suppose if we want to argue on semantics of “to whom does the cave belong” - she’s right. But if we evaluate the use of the word in terms of its meaning and place in vocabulary and related words, ‘man cave’ is defined as

A man cave is a dedicated, personalized home sanctuary—typically a basement, garage, or shed—designed for relaxation, hobbies, and entertainment, acting as a "guy-only" space to unwind. Popular features include large TVs, bars, gaming consoles, and memorabilia, with costs ranging from a few thousand for basic setups to over $100k for extensive, fully automated, or detached renovations

Synonyms for a Man Cave

• He-shed (if detached)

• Retreat/Safe Haven

• Workshop/Workshop studio

• Den/Study*

• Garage or Basement hang-out

*A study, also known as a home office, is a room in a house that is used for paperwork, computer work, or reading. Historically, the study of a house was reserved for use as the private office and reading room of a parent/guardian as the formal head of a household

If the room is built around a racing simulator, large screen TV, and hobby-driven setup, its function changes. At that point, it’s no longer a study—it’s a personalized retreat for recreation and escape.

And there you have it: Transitive Property of Man-Caves.