What platinum sounds will be next?

I'm a hip-pop artist. My hips produce some prodigious sound when I bend to turn on the lava lamp or pick up a wad of paper that missed the recycling bucket by inches when I attempted an NBA-style three-pointer.

The endeavors leading up to the concert of cracks can change the tones emanating from the instruments of my thighs to a remarkable degree. A walk of three to four miles is a deep, resonate crunch. A trek in double-digit mileage creates a crack that reverberates off the walls.

A spell on the couch to read a novel or watch Madame Secretary often results in just one side willing to play some tunes. Usually my left hip is the happiest to riff on demand after sitting. Time in the desk chair at my campus office can result in a grinding symphony every time I rise. (I drink a lot of water and a lot of tea, so, well, you get the idea.)

The first hints of this hip-pop artistry debuted about eight years ago, while unloading the dishwasher. For years it was just the left side. And not all that often. In retrospect, it was probably one of first signs of aging.

She, this noisy artist in me, has so gradually revealed herself, though, that I kind of dig her. Rather than be worried about her growing repertoire, I have fully embraced the challenge to see what platinum sounds we can make together next.