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Monday, August 19, 2013

That one time when I wrote a letter to Jay-Z about my trip to Oklahoma

As most of you know I went to Oklahoma almost two weeks ago.

Why, you ask?

I was given the opportunity to attend Kevin Durant's basketball camp and write a review for one of the female sports blogs I write for.

I was asked earlier in the year and of course my response was:

"Ballin'!" (Which translated into a more professional response of "yes I would love to, thank you.")

I spent the whole summer word vomiting about it on social media, because that's what you're supposed to do these days. And I was super excited/nervous about the chance to meet Kevin Durant.

No I did not take this picture while
driving and yes I did take this
picture 20 times and decided this
was the best one- believe it or not.

I drove up to Oklahoma in the middle of the week and booked a room at a Sooner fans dream hotel. Seriously, that place is where Sooner fans go to die. So why did I stay there? Well that is what happens when you try to book a hotel with your debit card reward points and want a location closest to OU campus. Plus I thought it would be a fun experience because it was also a sports bar, and y'all know I love me some sports bars (said in a non-booze hound sorta way).

UT fans: just focus your eyes on the really big bed.


The evening I got into town I thought I'd explore OU campus and get a feel for this school that I was raised to hate. I wanted to find where things were since I had to be at the rec center early the next morning. Honestly, I was also itching to see the football stadium. Even though I hate OU football, I was excited to see the stadium because I made a new goal for myself to visit every stadium in the Big 12 Conference. So against my will, it was a must that I see this place. It wasn't so bad. I didn't burst into flames when I stepped foot on the stadium grounds.




It just so happened that the OU football players where getting out of practice when I was exploring. I  thought I should take advantage of this opportunity by asking them to help me find a few buildings. I also thought it would be a good idea to tackle one of them. I use the term tackle very loosely but I did body slam one because I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. When someone says "it's over there" and points, of course I am going to look so that means you shouldn't walk in front of me. I'm not saying that Kliff Kingbury should make me an honorary player for this tackle....wait, yes I am. Holla atcha girl, Kliff. (My number will be in secret code at the end of this post).

The next morning I woke up super early to head over to Kevin Durant's camp. When I got there I went to check-in with the staff as a member of the media. I was quickly informed that Kevin Durant's agent decided that morning he did not want media present for the camp after all.

Say what?!?!?!

Yes, you read that right. I drove 6 hours to Oklahoma and booked a hotel for two nights only to find out that they changed their mind. It took a lot for me to not go crazy latina on them but I found it best for the future of my career to just walk away.

When I arrived back at the hotel I frantically searched to find out who Kevin Durant's agent was. It is amazing how big of a brain fart you can have when you're fuming mad because I quickly remembered that his agent is....

Jay-Z.

Suddenly it sank in. Kevin Durant signed to Roc Nation Sports about a month ago and Jay-Z currently represents him and a few other players.

Freakin' A.

I didn't let the fear of Jay-Z possibly reading my letter make my shy away from sending it. I felt like this situation was something they needed to know about for the future. Last minute decisions like this one can hurt a little freelancers heart. And my heart was hurting. Like whoa.

The hardest part of writing the letter was starting it off. How exactly do you write a letter that is directed towards Jay-Z?

Dear Mr. Jay-Z?
Dear Jay?
Dear Mr. Hyphen Z?
Hova??

I went with something more professional. That was the second hardest part for me. Being professional. I wanted to write him a letter more explicit than the lyrics in his last album. Homegirl was PO-ed. I wanted to let him know that I currently had 99 problems and he was one.

But I didn't.

I expressed my frustrations in a polite manner because at the end of the day I do want to like you Jay-Z. I still want to sing Can I Get A? at a karaoke bar with my friends. But more than that, I wanted to display a little glimpse of loving one another through such a crappy time as this.

I haven't heard back from him. I actually don't expect to. Maybe I will get a shout out in his next album. Who knows?
But I learned a lot from this experience. I learned that writing is what I want to do. I want to do it bad enough to drive 6 hours to Oklahoma and stay in a Sooner infested hotel.
I learned that God has given me some pretty fun experiences even when the outcome isn't what I would have imagined.

And this is a story about that one time when I wrote a letter to Jay-Z about my trip to Oklahoma.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

I'm Not Dead.

Good news, right?

My sister informed me that I hadn't written a blog post in almost two months...and she laughed when she told me because she thought she was mistaken and then I (not so) kindly informed her that she was correct and thanks for pointing that out. (Long breath after a unnecessary run-on sentence).

So if I am not dead, what exactly have I been doing?

Good question.

I got a new freelance job writing for another college sports website.
Score.

I am about to head to Oklahoma to interview and review Kevin Durant's Basketball camp.
Score. Again.

And last week I was in Dallas for Echo- a conference for artist, geeks and storytellers.
And it was awesome.
Mainly because I got to hear Jon Acuff speak for the 5th time in 3 months, which is borderline stalker status. And I finally got to hear Donald Miller speak and he blew my mind.

Aaaaand this weekend I have been attending Texas Style Council here in Austin.
Which is the primary reason for this late-night blog update.
Because all the ladies I gave my blog out to are going to visit and say:
"Dang this chic doesn't write much."
Well, I do.
Just not on here.
Often.

So I am heading to bed before 11p on a Saturday night, but only after I go iron my favorite cardigan to wear tomorrow.

And if that last sentence didn't make me sound like an old lady, nothing else will.

Adios new friends!

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