There is a big black trash can in the kitchen at home, which is inductive, and whenever someone walks in front of it, it will rattle and slowly speak, waiting for you to throw something in. Ever since I was around it, I didn't want to take out the garbage too often. When cooking, there are some paper bags and boxes, and they are all gathered together and thrown together, because I always feel that I have to bother to open it again and again, and I am very unhappy.

But occasionally when I go back to my room, I want to throw something, I hang my hand in the air, and my little white trash can stands with my mouth closed, innocent, and unresponsive. I think it's lazy again, and it's not angry.

After thinking about the storyboard for a month, I began to dream about them in my dreams, they were all blue and green, raining heavily, chaotic and dirty. The script was a thin bunch, daunting, and complicated like a book I had never read.

Contact, communication, trust. From special effects makeup to truck drivers, how to gauge whether they're reliable. I sometimes feel like I'm walking on the surface of the sea with invisible reefs under my feet. But I know it's still early.

By three o'clock, the cat slept like a bag of potatoes. I printed out the paper, and the machine clicked, scaring the cat awake. He lifted his head and hung it down again. I finished the manuscript and lay down on the bed, my head hitting the pillow like a button, and anxiety, powerlessness, and fear immediately came rushing in, more than the microwave at home.

I put the ball of my foot on the cat's belly, and he purred and didn't move.

Calculate the schedule, stay up late today, stay up late tomorrow, and shoot your classmates' films in the next three days. On Wednesdays, two weeks in a row, I had a vivid dream that I slept until 2 p.m. and missed class, so I emailed the professor with guilt to apologize, but I felt refreshed and happy inside—and then I woke up and found that it was only half past seven in the morning and I had a splitting headache.

The temporary house expires in December. So I added a rental house to my schedule, but to rent a more suitable house, I had to have a car first, I had to buy a car, and I had to take a local driver's license first. If you can't find the house in time, you have to find a place to store your luggage temporarily. A new list was opened in Notepad with the title: November.

I searched Airbnb during my nap and found a girl nearby who rented a house for a short time, which was quite cost-effective, and then turned into the introduction, she had a three-year-old greyhound.

Unintentionally working, I started mopping the floor and looked around my room. If I'm going to go for a short-term rental, I don't want any furniture. What else to bring, my hard drive and camera, printer bought big. Clothes are packed in a box, and you can buy them again for daily use. Send the books away, you have to leave a carving time, a sea, and a Bresson's handwriting. I want the diary of the old tower, but it's too thick, and if I really don't want it, then forget it. Ah, and my teas. Tea is wanted, and you can't live on the free tea bags from the school.

The first rain fell in Los Angeles in October. I heard the sound of rain late at night, and I thought in my heart, the river is wide and the clouds are low... However, this place is brilliant and dry, if Mr. Jiang Jie is here, how can he be lyrical with the cactus.

+1

I slept for an hour at night, groggy, unable to concentrate, and very sad in my heart. At this time, I arrived at a courier, opened it and saw that the six glass jars were so heavy that I bought sweet wine in Yami.

I'm sane! I can work again!