In the beginning..

.. there was a struggling artist, whose story was not so different from anyone else's, but whose story was just unique enough to merit thoughtful record and description. If not for posterity's sake, this story could at least be enough, one day, to make a small, eighty-year-old woman, shriveled and swallowed up by her oak rocking chair next to her hearth, peer down through her laughing blue eyes and exclaim, "what an adventure I have had."

I am writing my story for my friends and family, who hopefully will lose nothing in the reading of it, and who may even gain a chuckle as willing followers of the dramatic interpretation of my life. I am also writing my story as a single selfish act for my mischievous, geriatric self.

***

After graduating from college in May, a dear and very special friend presented me with what I would discover to be a brown, leather-bound journal. I didn't notice until closer examination that the bottom right corner of the cover had my name inscribed. Underneath the somewhat intimidating "Chelsea Elizabeth Vincent" (for some reason, seeing your name imprinted in leather bestows upon you a sense of duty and of "great expectations", to quote Mister Dickens), a quote was also inscribed. The quote read: "Oh, the places you'll go!"

If you've ever wanted to feel utterly lost and without a sense of solid direction, I suggest killing yourself for four years at a highly-respected university (and the eighth "most stressful university/college" in the US as of 2010) and then graduating with.. a gigantic piece of paper. When that moment arrived, I knew the first place I was going: Los Angeles. After that, the list in my head read something like: the temp agency, the breadline, the shelter, the coffin. However, although my mind may have a sarcastic sense of self, my spirit has kept me moving forward. As the name of my blog implies, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. If you haven't picked up your favorite childhood book in years, I suggest going back to it. It is amazing how much wisdom those little pages (with ten words apiece or less) contain.

I sat down yesterday on the set of my first student film in Los Angeles - a low-budget project with USC which is being entered in a contest of sorts to finish filming on the Warner Brothers lot - and pulled out this precious journal. I wasn't sure what to write, so I wrote down a list of the jobs I have held in my life up til now. These include, but are not limited to: babysitter, Little League concessions worker, party planner and entertainer (including children's parties and going to an adult party dressed as Roxie and doing a musical number on, no joke, a stage in some nice white couple's living room), charity street fundraiser, cafe attendant, telefund ambassador, resident assistant, pre-college counselor, yoga instructor, community advisor, cooking and baking entrepreneur (pastries, cakes, candies, breakfast burritos), promotional model, brand ambassador, dog walker, pet sitter, stunt performer, hostess, bartender, model, fit model.. ah, I am also a newly-hired "floater" at a BBQ joint across the street (who knew you could make money floating?), which entails being a cashier, a server, an eventual bartender, and potentially a baker (my employers were ridiculously excited when they found out I can bake well), and, of course, actor (note: significantly less paying jobs thus far in the last category). That last job is the dream job of the childhood me, so I figure I had better keep it in the mix so that I don't get annihilated by an angry blond kid in my second life.

In all honesty, though, I tried to pinpoint my goal the other night at a "Wine & Cheese" party I hosted with friends. I announced that my idea of success is being able to support myself through my work as an actor without compromising my sense of self. Oh, and making the people around me happy during the process would be nice, too.

So, that is what I have arrived here to do... onwards and upwards, right?

Los Angeles is an emotional rollercoaster. One day, I feel like I am on top of the world, and the next day, I feel like I am in the gutter. That is the life of a newly graduated person. Life is both terrifying and dazzling, numbing and thrilling.

As it would take far too much mental energy to track the month and a half that I have been here so far, I will leave it at that and bid you all adieu. Tomorrow is a new day, and the first 'official' entry in the life of this newly-hatched artist. Wish me luck. ;)