Words about things.

I awoke in the early morning hours of December 31st with quite possibly the worst pain in my stomach that I've ever experienced. I was in a hotel in Raleigh. My first thought: "It's your appendix." My second thought: "Great, I'm out of network. This will cost a fortune."

I did what I typically do in panicky situations, which is absolutely nothing. Instead of grabbing my phone and Googling which side your appendix is on (my third thought: "You're 28, you should know that without having to look it up."), I laid in bed and hoped it would go away. It didn't. So, I started pressing on my stomach, to see if it hurt when I touched it. It didn't. I willed myself back to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later feeling fine, as if the whole thing had been a dream.

It wasn't a dream, though. And so I blamed the pain on the cup of queso I had at Chubby's Tacos earlier that day, followed by the 5 pound cottage pie I consumed later that night.

2014. 28 years old. Still testing my limits with dairy, and food in general.

No regrets, just love.

I won't talk about the concert. I think I've talked enough about them. But I will mention that for the first hour after the doors opened, Kelsey and I sat in the wrong seats, one section closer to the stage than we were supposed to be. We made friends with the people around us, only to slowly slink away after I figured out we were in Section 105, and we were supposed to be in 104.

2014. 28 years old. Numbers still playing trickies on me.

We made an impromptu trip to Nashville on New Year's Day to see Langhorne Slim and some other Nashville musicians preform. They played at a winery that made me nervous. I sat at the bar before the doors opened, and almost spilled my wine 3 times because my hands were shaking.

I didn't fit in, and it wasn't until one of the guys on stage said he felt the same way, that I was able to relax. Just a little. Because the second I calmed down, the show was over, and that meant we would meet Langhorne on our way out of the doors.

I'd just like to say this: he was the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on in real life. I wanted to touch him, and not in a grab-ass kind of way. I wanted to put my hands on his face. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to kiss his cheeks. Instead, I asked him to take this picture, and kept my hands to myself.

2015. 28 years old. In desperate need of a man in my life.

I wanted to love Nashville so, so much more than I did. I have high hopes that I'll go back during the summer (or maybe for my birthday?) and fall in love with the city like I had planned to. I blame it on the crappy weather, on being tired, and being incredibly intimidated by East Nashville hipsters.

As much as I loved getting away, and as much fun as I had, I am happy to be home. In my own bed, with my cats, and my 7 blankets because it's so very cold in my house, no matter what I do.

The more time that I'm away, the more places that I visit, the more I realize I am where I'm supposed to be.

2015. 28 years old. Finally, finally, starting to get it right.

How was your New Year's?