This is what happens...

... When caffeine is consumed past 7 o'clock at night.
   I write scenes for books.
   Usually about murder, or something to that effect.
  Such was the case last night! My high-rev mocha had me jittery, knocked me out for a few hours, then I woke up out of my coffee-induced sleep/coma and wrote 4 paragraphs about a murder that played out in my subconscious when I woke up. At about 1 AM, give or take. Here's what I came up with:
                                                                                      ...
The heavy, old fashioned door swings open on it's hinges quietly, revealing a tall, statuely figure in it's shadows.
   Padding across the floor silently in stockinged feet, the man slowly makes his way to his destination, a large mohogany four-poster bed, the occupant, a woman, visible under the covers in the moonlight. She slumbers stretched out with one arm under her head like a painting, each careful, precise brushtroke making up the fine, high cheekbones and brow, the sharp angle of her defiant chin, the soft brown curls of her hair spilling out over the silk pillowcase.
   He bends down and gently kisses her cheek, his fine brandy loving lips barely touching her flawless skin for an instant before he jerks away, as though shocked by some invisible electric current. The woman turns over in her sleep, whispers of some meaningless word playing on the edge of her rosepetal lips. His name.
   Stealthily, he reaches under the fold of his dressing robe, extracting a long stiletto knife, polished blade reflecting both his frenzied, mad, yet still handsome face, along with her peacefull one. The freshly sharpened edge glints in the half-light almost hungrily, mimicing it's masters eyes. He grasps the smooth cherrywood handle tightly with his strong, calloused hand, a meeting of wood and flesh that has taken place so many times before. The same amount of times the shining blade has met blood.
   Icy cold silver presses into the woman's warm, unprotected neck, the frigidity and sharpness of it causing her eyes to fly open- bloodshot grey eyes, eyes that don't want to register what is about to happen, that are struck dumb despite their obvious intelligence. They travel up the man's body, taking in the dishreveled richness with vauge, sleep disoriented recognition. Their eyes meet, grey seeing green, storm cloud seeing forest. 
   From his lips comes a small, sad smile, from hers, one last insignificant word. A name. His.
  "James"
                                                                                    ...
   I left it just as is, leaving in my poor spelling and sentence fragments! I swear I know how to spell "vague", and the rest of those words- just not in the wee hours of the morning! Reading back on it, I sound rather drunk. I'm not. Cross my heart. Just sleep deprived.
-EQ and Spirit signing off!
P.S. I am not neurotic. I just enjoy writing dark, morbid things! And I haven't the foggiest idea where I got the name "James", especially seeing as how I don't even know a James. 
P.P.S. Not sure why the rest of the text turned black... I presume the first part was black because I copied it from Open Office... I detest it when computers think they are smarter than I!

Bloggers block

   This is simply tragic! I have nothing new to report! My life is terribly boring.
  I mean, I spent my Saturday doing school. How horrid is that?
   Of course, I'm rather sure mother thinks I am slightly psychotic now. Due to the fact she walked into my room to see me flopped on my stomach on the bed, my feet as high up the wall as I could get them, propped up on my elbows while writing a prose about slavery and singing "Que Sera Sera". While barefoot and wearing two long sleeved shirts and wrapped up in a blanket. And burning incense.
   She says I'm "eccentric".
  Ah well! Better than crazy. Like our neighbor. Or axe murderer, which is what I was convinced our other neighbor was. I mean really, who digs holes at 12 o'clock at night with a large garbage bag (full, not that I could see what was in it), while wearing striped boxers? We have about 4 neighbors, and they're all mentally unstable, I think.
Nothing else to report!
-EQ and Spirit
PS: Reading back on this, this post is so discombobulated and confusing and pointless, it should probably be eaten by rabid bears.

Party!

  Well, my best friend's very famous New Years Eve party is coming up! That's right my friends, the rider who lives in tall boots and breeches is trading it in for a purple sheath dress and a Star Trek emblem! Oh yes, did I mention the theme was "Star Trek"? And seeing as how I have only seen two episodes in my life (I'm not a '70s child, what can I say?), I have to blindly follow my friend's instruction on how to dress:
"You could be Yvonne!"
"Who's that? Wasn't she in 'The Munsters'"
"Uh, no. She's the gorgeous one who wears red."
"My hair is red."
"Point being?"
"No red. Anyone there wear green?"
"Purple or red. Take your pick."
"Purple."
"Done. Wear your sheath dress. And some knee high boots. You do have knee high boots, right?"
"Yes, dear, they're called field boots."
"Tights?"
"Duh."
"Hello Star Trek service lady!"
So apparently I'm going to be a service lady? Fun fun. Ah well. Sounds like it'll be fun, though. I know several people are going as Space Snipers (?), some are going as the red dudes that always die (I think?), several are going as aliens...This will be one of the tamer ones! Last year I went as Alice in Wonderland, there was a Kung Fu master, an angel, a caveman named "Ug"...
Tana and EQ signing off!

Mare

  Well, horse people being the penny-pinching tightwads they are, the gelding I was originally looking at has sold (Was going to give $3,000 for him, but then they found someone that would spend $500 more. Que sera sera.). However, this may be a good thing- I found a 6 year old mare who's 16 hands, her dam was a TBxPerch, and her sire was a Warmblood. She's doing training level Dressage, and has been jumped up to 2'6. She's also being sold for $1,500 OBO. In other words, she's perfect. She's a light bay, with a near fore white coronet, and the most adorable star/stripe/snip (Excluding Spirit's fabulous facial markings, of course). I adore horses with star/stripe/snips. Not that I'm prejudice, or anything ;)
   She's up in BC, so we may have to get our passports so they don't think we're terrorists, provided her owners can't drive 15 miles to get across the border. She is, quite literally, 15 miles from the border. Darned border laws.
   Anyways, wish me luck. She seems like she could be the one...
Later:
Reviewing the pictures sent to me, she's rather coon footed. I've emailed the owner asking if there's any history of DSLD or anything in her lineage. Also asked if she'd be able to hold up to the rigors of Eventing. I'm about to say "Screw this" and give up on the horse hunt and just get a job as a catch rider xD Ah well. I'm sure it will work out eventually.

Lovely.

   Well, the wicked mouse has finally met his demise! I opened the curtain hiding the disarrayed shelving this morning to discover an obscenely large grey rodent lying limply in the trap. Originally presuming it to be some sort of raccoon or small bear, or even a wolverine, closer inspection proved that it was simply a gigantic grey mouse. Such a pleasant discovery to make, bleary eyed in a robe and nightgown, squinting through smudged glasses. I must say, it woke me up, though.
  School, school, school. Today I am to do 6 lessons of 20th Century history. Ah well, at least I enjoy reading about that era immensely. I am enthralled by the flapper culture, and am quite certain I was born in the wrong time period. Ah well. At least now we have email. The hats they had back then were positively amazing though. Now you can't exactly wear a cloche or fedora over your eyes without being branded as some hipster. Darn stereotypes!
  It's a frigid but bright day today, mocking me as I am doomed to stay inside, staring blankly at the computer screen, allowing myself a glance every now and then outside the window to watch the ponies. Oh, and about my calling them ponies: We actually do not have any ponies. Spirit is 16.3, Sugar is 16.1, Bandit is 15.3. Commander and Millicent are the only "ponies". Never sticked them, but I presume they top out at about 14.2-15 on a tall day. However, both are Quarter Horses. Midget Quarter Horses, but Quarter Horses all the same.
  Ta ta, dahlings! -EQ and Spirit
 

Update:

   Mouse still unaccounted for. The trap is set in the shelves, so we're just going to have to wait... It's been there all night, but I'm still hearing scrabblings. Of course, the whole night I couldn't get to sleep because I was dreading the final snap! that would send me shooting out of bed with alarm, and most likely hurling a lamp, hairbrush, or whatever was closest in that general direction, due to the fact I would automatically presume it was a professional hitman entering my room to kill me by sawing a hole in the side of the house and crawling in and strangling me. Quite. You never know about these things.
   In other news, I'm going to try to get out to see that horse this Saturday. If he works out, he's getting body clipped and ridden every day before spring comes so I'll be able to actually compete. Gosh I miss competing. We'll probably start off just doing some hunter shows until he's totally finished (5, and still a bit green), then move on to Beginner Novice eventing, then take it on from there.
   It's a lovely day, and after I get the thrice accursed school done, I plan on going out and visiting the ponies. I'm considering roaching Spirit's mane, due to the fact we're not showing, and he keeps getting burrs stuck in it. And it's all short and frizzy. How do you guys think he'd look with a 'hawk? Pretty dang adorable, I'll bet. I mean, he totally fills the tough guy appearance- tall, fat, uncoordinated, slow, big ears. Note the sarcasm ;)
-EQ and her tough guy, Spirit, signing off!

Horrified.

   I think there just might be a mouse in my room. I heard the skittering in the right hand far corner of my room, and Heidi (the watchdog of the room) was sniffing at the shelves there curiously... So I am armed to the teeth with a shoe, the BB gun, and a knife. The mouse'll never make it out alive if I have anything to say about it, by george!
   Mind you, I have nothing against mice... Just when they sneak up on you. You never know what the little vermin might do- it could gnaw a hole in my hair as I sleep! Filthy little thing. Though I'm considering catching it in a hat and keeping it.
  Provided, of course, that there IS actually a mouse in here. I could be imagining it, or it could just be an overgrown, mutated housefly trying desperately to escape the doom known as my bedrooms shelving. I should clean that. Though I'm afraid to, now, obviously. Due to the mouse. That may or may not exist.
   I blame mom fully for this. She insisted on removing our old television from the stone ages and putting in a sleek futuristic one in its place. Of course, our house is one with a hole in it for the television, and the old TV is so huge that it took up the entire space, so when she moved it she found practically an entire ecosystem back there, complete with waterfalls and specialized organisms. Okay, not quite, but she did find a mouse. She probably made it mad by invading it's abode, so it told all it's little mouse-friends and they've made a vendetta against us, and are going to start punishing her by murdering her daughter as she sleeps innocently. I'm sure.
  Wish me luck against the vermin army.
   I knew we needed a cat.
Later:
  Well, now it's coming from the shelving on the left. Oy vey. There must be a bunch of 'em! Because I've had my eye glued to the right for the past 15 minutes, and there's no way for it to get to the left without going in front of my line of vision. Of course, it's very near the garbage bag that contains my prom dress. If I wake up tomorrow and find a hole in that dress, I will personally find that mouse and make him rue the day he was born.
  I'll keep ya'll updated...
Even later:
   I survived the night with little drama. I heard some scratching, but it's amazing the nose that an obi will make when smacked against the curtains hiding the mess in the shelving (it was late and it was the first thing I grabbed, what can I say? At least I didn't try to shoot it with the BB gun). Haven't heard anything else... Of course, it could have just been the dog moving. Needless to say, I think I almost gave her a heart attack... Seeing as how I brutally beat the curtain with a karate belt, right next to her head, waking her up and throwing her into a frenzy. Still. The rat poison goes out tonight!
   Later:
   It just ran across the floor!!
  What the heck do you do with a mouse once you locate it?! I am currently perched up on my bed with my BB gun trained on the inner workings of the shelves (I managed to remove the curtain without giving myself a heart attack). If that mouse shows itself, it'll be sorry...