I went to Paramount on Friday morning, in fact, there was nothing to see, there were a lot of studios, there were really shooting people who were not allowed to enter, only showed us a demonstration of the explosion special effects, the smoke was blown out with a blower, a fireball came out, and a sound of wood clods made of plastic flew everywhere. The demo was given to us by a silver-haired lady who was said to be Paramount's only female special effects technician.

Then I walked in to see the real scene of the plastic building, this is quite interesting, five or six stories high, it looks sturdy but it is all hollow when you knock it. They took London, they took Chicago, and the director said: We have the best Brooklyn in all of Los Angeles! The sun was dazzling, and we giggled like a flock of ducks.

And then there are some technical departments, not to mention. We were all dying when we went to lunch, their staff cafeteria was quite expensive, but the souvenir shop was surprisingly cheap. I bought a funko doll from Vito Corleone. He was still holding the cat.

In the light storeroom, I saw the most lights I've ever seen in my life. From one end of the room to the other, from the floor to the ceiling, there were lamp heads. The tungsten lamp model we usually use in our school is called joker, the basic model here is called baby, and the larger model is called Junior 8grade and the like. I didn't expect it to happen soon.

It was four o'clock when I got home, and after an hour in bed, I jumped up and went to a third-grader's set to do a porter. They were third-year undergraduates, but I had only been studying film for seven weeks, so I treated my position more devout than Goku did to Bodhi Ancestor. But in fact, sincerity is of little use. I'm basically doing a disservice. Nine hours later, at two o'clock in the morning, I was covered in dog urine, rain and mud, guarding a ten-meter-high lampstand on the stormy streets of Los Angeles, which was put up one by one, the visor creaking horribly in gusts of wind, the crackling of green filter paper, and the crumbling head of the heavy lamp — it was a baby lamp.

I thought to myself, f**k, what if it smashes down, I'm not going to die here.

It's the first time it's rained since I came to Los Angeles, and the third graders must be confused: a city where the sun shines 320 days a year, but when you shoot your school year work, ******* think, what shit luck is. This is a favorite ghost story of a movie student who takes too many hallucinogenic drugs and mistakenly kills her husband in a hallucination. The next day I would meet the actor in the hallway with a cut throat, but I didn't know the plot at the time. At the time I mentioned, the actress was drunkenly taking drugs, and the sound was recorded on the spot, and twenty people were silent, waiting for her to shake the medicine bottle crisply - suddenly a string of clattering water droplets fell to the ground, not outside the window, but in the room. I hid in the corner, looked at the light boy, and looked up: Damn, this rented dilapidated house that simulated a 70's home leaked.

During the time we were blocking the ceiling with a bath towel, the director finished filming the drug-taking part. Then we ran to the backyard and took back the light stand and the sandbags that were used to light the room from the window, each 25 pounds, and I couldn't hold two at a time after the water was submerged. So I bit the flashlight in my mouth and walked through the muddy backyard with these stupid sandbags in my arms like a son. It was overgrown with thorns, and it seemed that there were quite a few people peeing in the canal, and after about twelve walks, I decided to go home and wash the washing machine.

At the time I didn't know what was going to happen later in the week.

The third graders set their lamps so high to simulate moonlight, which is definitely not what the textbooks recommend. Anyway, it didn't work out, and when the lamp came down, it split into two. Good thing I don't have to pay for it. At four o'clock in the morning I said goodbye to the director, he was a shy and nice guy, I sincerely praised his composition and color and set design, and I said I would come back tomorrow.

Saturday I went again. Today we shoot the part where the heroine kills her husband in the bedroom. We also laid the push rails yesterday, but today we had to move the dolly to the basement, it was so heavy that I learned the technique of using reasonable force to avoid sprains. I definitely still sprained. I felt a little aggrieved, but the key grip of that little brother's pants was torn in half by the machine, and he didn't blink an eye. I was so shocked. I don't have anything to complain about.

There's a lot going on. Everything goes into my book of embarrassing stories. The stupid things that often happen when you're doing a job in a foreign language among twenty strangers who are good friends with each other. But I've already learned the special skill of forgetting embarrassment. Now all I remember is that I sat alone on the stairs in the backyard after the lights were set up. A raccoon appeared in a tree. The two eyes sparkle with gold. He looked at me for a moment. Ran.

Everyone is a good person who is patient and I am honored to meet them. At midnight I went to say goodbye to the director. I said I wouldn't be here tomorrow and there was still homework. He's such a great guy and I'd love to have the opportunity to ask him to do a photoshoot.

I was embarrassed to rub their food and took a bottle of Red Bull with me.

On Sunday, I put half a dozen bone pain patches on my back and ran to help my classmates with their homework. She's also a cool girl, we don't have tracks in our homework after class, so we remove the handle of the vacuum cleaner to help the camera move. She filmed the story of a young woman who committed suicide after losing her husband. The young woman had a candlelight dinner before committing suicide and ate steak. She really cooked steak and asparagus, which made me kind of craving it.

But it's really time for the kitchen in their apartment to be cleaned up.

Her hamster ran out of the cage while filming. I'm in charge of watching the lights and seeing where the hamsters are. That's who I am. I'm going to put it on my resume. Sandbag collectors, light scaffolding, hamster watchmen. It will also use Bluetooth to play old pop songs from the 80s.

The secondary purpose of my visit to see the lights was to see if I could borrow them to shoot my homework. I liked the layout of the hallway of their apartment. I want to come over this Saturday to shoot.

This Monday, somehow I felt like it was past the New Year, I got up at 8 a.m. and emailed to book a set for next weekend and next weekend. Then I took the car to the city to help another classmate. This gentleman is very good at photography, and I envy them for knowing how to fiddle with the camera. He wants to film the story of a dedicated cleaner who turns into a psychopathic murderer after his wife's death and dumps his corpse at a garbage collection station. Do you see, film students don't have stories without love and murder. In short, he somehow managed to get permission to enter the dump. I found out that I washed the washing machine early. We found a perfect corner in the junkyard with a beautiful composition and a foul smell. We poured pieces of corpse from Halloween specials into a non-recyclable trash can taller than me, plastic, if anyone wanted to ask. Then my classmate jumped in without hesitation.

I find that my dedication to the industry is always challenged.

We ended up at four o'clock. My classmates dropped me off campus. There is a class at seven o'clock. I had a hard drive in my bag, and I thought I was just right for the editing job. As a result, I slept in the coffee room for two hours. Never mind.

There were only three people coming to class today. Because today is the day of the shooting. Can be freely disposed of. No matter what. I chatted with the professor for three hours. She's a good person. nice and cute。 At eight o'clock I texted another new guy and made an appointment to go to her set on Thursday and Friday. I can only go in the afternoon because there are classes in the morning. I think you're a little anxious. The professor said.

I think she's kind of right. But basically speaking. Staying busy is how I overcome my anxiety. If stopped. I'm about to start thinking about it. These questions are very real and very grandiose, for example, the first question: What the hell am I doing here?

The film you made last week was the only one I took home to show my husband. She added.

She's such a nice person. So I showed her the film I had made about color. She said she understood. I said I was skeptical. So she said the crux of the story is where is the end.

I was so impressed. She's such a nice person. That's the conversation I'm going to write down in my weekly gibberish essay. I've written it down now.

Then I went home. The school bus driver was very nice and allowed me to get off the bus on the side of the road closer to my home instead of having to sit at a fixed stop and walk back.

Milk in the refrigerator is expired on the 16th. I've drunk them all.

I threw my bag and my coat into the laundry bucket. After thinking about it, I threw all my clothes in. I stood at the washing machine and wondered if I should wash it first. Because yesterday I washed my clothes in muddy water. I always felt like I had left a mark.

I threw the cleaning ball in. Start washing the washing machine.