You've been a very naughty boy...

What is more stressful? Is it:

(a) Giving an impromptu speech about something you know little to nothing about in front of a crowd of 10,000 people.
(b) Realizing it is not a nightmare - you actually have shown up to work or school naked.
(c) Tidying up a room that bears a shocking resemblance to an Old Navy store after a one-day-only 99 cent flip-flop sale.

As with all multiple choice tests, the correct answer is always "c."

People hate messes.

The only exception to this rule would be one Ms. Mary Poppins with her whole "In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun, and - SNAP - the job's a game!" mantra. She might as well be saying, "Could I interest you in some direct marketing?" I mean, come on, who is she kidding? Even a spoon full of sugar can't make that medicine go down!

Straightening out a space that looks more like the aftermath of what the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Scale would define as a Category 5 Hurricane, or its equivalent, a preteen slumber party, can feel overwhelming, and even a bit like a punishment.

Very well then.

You've been a very naughty boy - not putting your toys away after you were done playing with them - now go sit in the corner and think about what you have done.

But hey, you are a rebel, right? So, while you are in the corner, you might as well get all Billy Idol and stick-it-to-the-man by putting that stuff away.

Here's how you do it.

Pick a corner. Any corner. Pick something up. Put it away. Repeat.

Don't be distracted by the beautiful celebrities, I mean, the other junk in the other corners of the room. Stay on target. Love the corner. The corner is your friend.

If you need to put something from that corner away in a different room, you may do so, but come right back to the corner. If you have to, go ahead and take something else with you that belongs in the "corner room" so that you can find your way back to the corner should you get lost along the way.

When you are done with that corner, move onto another corner, and before you know it that room will be looking supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

The voices in my head

Recently, I stopped listening to my iPod.

I mean, I completely stopped.

And since then, I have found myself more focused, more hopeful, and more motivated than ever.

What was I listening to? Not complaint rock or angst emo or anything. I mean, my ring tone is Mmmbop for cryin' out loud!

The stuff I was listening to was fantastic - terrific podcasts full of convicting messages, deep wisdom, and brilliant insights. But, I was finding the more I listened, the more anxious, overwhelmed, and depressed I felt.

I had so many voices bouncing around in my head that the only thing I knew to do to drown out the confusion was to listen to another podcast.

A viscous cycle.

There are so many messages, both good and bad, constantly being broadcast all around us. Many people cannot work, feel at ease in their home, or even fall asleep, if the tunes or TV aren't crankin'.

An addiction to noise.

And an aversion to silence.

For some, silence can be awkward, like a lapse in a struggling conversation. For others, it can create unwanted tension, be unnerving, or even downright scary.

I believe they have good reason to be afraid. I believe that in that place of silence, they would hear a voice both wonderful and terrible; A voice that would wreak their lives and cause them to change the way they do everything.

I believe they would hear the one voice we really should be listening to.

The voice of love and hope, the voice of wisdom and discernment, the voice of truth. It's a very quiet voice. Call it what you will, but I believe with all my heart that it is the voice of Almighty God.

And I believe that there is another voice. The voice of someone who hates us and doesn't want us to hear that quiet voice, because he knows what that would mean for our lives. He has come to steal, kill, and destroy, but has found that all he has to do is drown us...

...in noise.

Smoking pot

Hello, my name is Jessica Varney, and I am a girl.

It's true. The testosterone brain bath? Never got one. Totally missed this in utero experience. As a result, I supposedly still have all of these amazing connections remaining between my right and left brain that the distinctly XY chromosome types generally lack.

Supposedly.

Translation: as a girl, I should:

• (a) flake-out on the math portion of the SATs,
• (b) kick booty on the verbal, and
• (c) be the reigning queen of multitasking.

Right. But for me, it's more like a rousing round of "Two Truths and a Lie," because two of those statements are true, while the other is just lies, lies, lies.

(a) In my world, the letter "C" is not just for "Cookie." It's for Trigonometry, Geometry, and anything else remotely metry. So, there is my first truth.

(b) And verbally, I have in fact kicked many a booty. So truth number two? Totally accurate.

(c) But oh, the tragedy of the lie.

I have four burners on my stove. That means that I should be able to cook four things at the same time.

The one time (one time) I did in fact have all four burners pumping, I found out what happens when you steam broccoli without the use of water. The scientific term for what you see coming off of your pot is not "water vapor."

It's "smoke."

And when a pot that you have on your stove is "smoking," that means that it is "hot." And I'm not talking San Antonio minus A/C hot, I'm talking about twenty-seven-million-degrees-at-the-center-of-the-sun-hot.

It was on that day that I scientifically proved that neither counter tops, nor tabletops, nor even three layers of potholders are meant to withstand those levels of radiation. Who knew that a hot pot could turn a pot holder to a pile of ash in mere seconds?

Because I was trying to do too many things at once, I very nearly burned my house down.

So my advice? Maybe it's time to slow down there, Speed Racer, before you muck things up.

How many hot burners are you cooking on?

Bright and shiny objects

My kitchen is only about 8 feet wide. So to get from one side to the other, literally all I need to do is turn my body around. Seems simple enough. Yet somehow, during the 180 degree journey from one side to the other, I usually forget what I am looking for.

I wish I were kidding.

I'll open the oven, only to realize that I really needed something out of the fridge. I've been known to put the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the ice box.

Conclusion: I'm down with ADD. Be it a thought or an object, if it be bright and shiny, I be there. Did I mention that I have a hard time focusing?

In an effort to fight my flightiness, I have developed an elaborate system of tricks I use to combat my wandering brainwaves.

For example, I have a series of different hand motions I make for whatever it is I am looking for, so that when (not if) I forget what in tarnation it was I was seeking, I can just look down at my flailing paws and go "Oh, I remember. Can opener!"

But the worst is the bathroom. I am so prone to forgetting what I was working on prior to skipping to the loo that I put off powdering my nose until the last possible second. Clarification: That would be the second after my pee-pee dance reaches its DDR peek, and the second before I instead find myself seeking a mop and a pair of dry drawers.

So what's a well-hydrated girl to do? Answer: Carry whatever it is I am working on to the bathroom with me and leave it on the floor just outside the door. I call these my "props" as they help me to remember what my "scene" was prior to my restroom rendezvous during "intermission".

"Has anyone seen Jessica?"

"She's in the john."

"How do you know?"

"There is a boulder on the floor outside the door, that's how I know."

Finally, I talk to myself. Out loud. I mutter to myself. In fact, I'm doing it right now. I carry on conversations with myself about whatever it is I am doing. That way, if I forget, I can just ask myself later.

Hey, wait a second. How did I end up writing this blog anyway? I was totally doing something else? Self, what was it? Oh, I remember. Working!