"Clytaemnestra I'm not anxious, you'll soon be dead"

Tonight, I spent an hour resting in my car, listening to Picture Atlantic's "Cassandra" over and over again before deciding to drive home. Honestly, this immediate, unlimited freedom is refreshing to someone who spent most of her life having to sneak around (though, I must admit, in retrospect, it was rather fun and even exciting). But anyway, listening to Nick Bartunek hit those ridiculously high notes while staring at the night sky was the most relaxation I have experienced in the past few months. I no longer meditate for the sake of my soul (and sanity), like I used to, primarily due to my lack of religious belief. Of course, I'm not implying that meditation is only for believers; the form I was most familiar with however, necessitates counting beads while focusing on the glory of God. And the idea of a higher being is something I find implausible at this point, which is something I've come to terms with after a long, seemingly never-ending struggle of faith vs. reason.
Yet, because of the beauty or perhaps pure sincerity in his voice, I was able to tranquilize.
Finally.

"Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence."