I wish we didn’t have to be nude to be noticed ... But given the game as it exists, women make decisions. For instance, the Miss America contest is in all of its states ... the single greatest source of scholarship money for women in the United States. If a contest based only on appearance was the single greatest source of scholarship money for men, we would be saying, "This is why China wins." You know? It’s ridiculous. But that’s the way the culture is. I think that we need to change the culture, not blame the people that are playing the only game that exists.

Gloria Steinem, at the Women's Media Awards

Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Paris. One of few places that live up to the hype.

Brian took me to Paris in August, making good on a promise he made on our very first date. We stayed in Le Marais, a historic district just a stroll away from the breathtaking Notre Dame de Paris (my life was forever changed because of this building).

On one of our walks, we passed a Parisian gentleman expertly playing what looks like a lute. Listening to it tonight was, in some ways, even more powerful than the first time. His music became the accompaniment for

• the lilting beauty of the French language
• the tinkling sound of appreciative pocket change
• the steady beat of adult footsteps
• the rushed skip of a child's footsteps
• the iconic sound of a bicycle (my favorite; around 1:00 mark)

THE SUNDAY SOUND: December 8, The Sound of Paris.
For more photos from our trip, check out my Paris Flickr set.

And, in spite of occasional disagreements with practice or policy, in spite of occasional frustration and hurt, and in spite of the weekly challenges of being a liberal, intellectual Latter-day Saint in a conservative, often anti-intellectual church community, because of my wish for the Church as it is to be more like the Church as it should be and because of a lifelong experience of finding love and goodness there, I give the church my allegiance and devotion, not mindlessly but mindfully, and with full heart and voice.

Robert Rees, The Goodness of the Church

How much terrible torture this thirst for faith has cost me and costs me even now, which is all the stronger in my soul the more arguments I can find against it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

We are all here to transcend our early limitations, whatever they were. We’re here to recognize our own magnificence and divinity no matter what they told us. You have your negative beliefs to overcome, and I have my negative beliefs to overcome.

Louise L. Hay, You Can Heal Your Life

I should know by now that feeling compelled to complete a series means I will inevitably lose the creative juices required to do so. I lose the inspiration to create new installments, but I don't want to post anything outside of the series, so I end up not posting anything. For months. Vicious cycle. (This is assuming that I am only responding to self-imposed deadlines, of course. If someone is counting on my deliverables, I always complete the project. Important clarification. Especially if you are a potential employer.)

Back in November, I decided to create a piece detailing something I was grateful for every single day until Thanksgiving. I had hoped to build this into a culminating gratitude event on Thanksgiving day... perhaps even recording the varied gratitudes of the people who had gathered at our home to celebrate. It was going to be inspirational and fantastic! It was going to inspire all who heard it to be more grateful and express their gratitude more readily! YES! GRANDEUR!

And then it was my husband's birthday. And then it was my mother's birthday. And my gratitude for both of these people was (is!) too overwhelming to just slap some crappy thing together. So I got a little behind. And then all of a sudden it was JUNE!

So, to sum up and lay this straggling, unfinished series to rest... everything I am grateful for in life stems from two realities: 
1) I have the ability to start over and re-commit when I fail.
2) I experience the enduring love of a family.

So this post celebrates both of those things. For your listening pleasure, I present my darling nephew Zachary singing "The W Song" (these letter songs are amazing, by the way).

THE GRATITUDE CHALLENGE: November 13-30, Re-commitment and Family.
For those following along in an RSS reader, click through to the original post to hear today's piece.

My pal Alexa sent me a link to the Museum of Endangered Sounds back in August. Alexa was my assistant for a while ("An assistant to an assistant? You can't go lower!" See this post.). She must have gotten to know me quite well over the years because she knew I would absolutely adore this virtual mini-museum of sonic delights.

The museum is operated by a chap named Brendan Chilcutt and captures the sound of old technologies and electronic equipment. It is absolutely brilliant. A few of my favorites: blowing into a Nintendo video game cartridge, the America Online sign-on page (My first screennames as a pre-teen? YooHooPunk and ZachMorrisIsHot!), and an old rotary telephone.

I wish I had thought of this first! Check it out: Museum of Endangered Sounds.

For Brian, who deals with my sickness (in whatever form it takes)...

Moist wads of toilet paper
    litter the wood-paneled floors

can't afford Kleenex

Tiny plastic pods hastily opened
    to release the so-you-can-rest medicine

new accessories to every flat surface

Skin rubbed raw by Charmin
    burning with the slow drip of dislodged congestion

Day-time means eyes smothered by tiny shards of glass
    too proud to wear the thick plastic frames reserved for the safety of home

Pain
Ache
Fever won't break

And still, the worst of it is not being able to smell you in the morning.

Yesterday afternoon was dedicated to a writing workshop hosted by Deja Earley Ruddick and Lisa Van Orman Hadley.

I have never really written, per se... all my projects come out of the editing process. I never start with a blank page (or blank Pro Tools session, to be more accurate). Instead, I start with a big chunk of sound and chop away at it until the beauty hidden within appears. As I said in the workshop, my only experience with writing, as it is most commonly understood, is sad adolescent attempts at writing lyrics (to make use of my singing voice and emo heart)... everything terrible and full of cliché.

At the end of the workshop, we were challenged to write a poem. To not worry about it being terrible or full of cliché. To just write. And then share this initial attempt with everyone present, of course. I ended up with what you see above, with a couple edits (one suggested by Deja; thank you, ma'am).

THE SUNDAY SOUND: February 3, My first foray into poetry: the audible version.
For those following along in an RSS reader, click through to the original post to hear today's piece.