simtarts

Dear Diary, which is being kept for He (or She) who is the Father of Jung Woolf,

Yet again I find myself recording both the trivial and pivotal events in our son's life, as I have done since he was a small child who gnawed and beat upon his teddy bear. I do not know if you will ever read this, but in case you do ever return to this planet I will have this diary as evidence that I have raised our son to the best of my ability, preparing him for whatever plans you may have in store.

I still do not know why you chose me as your vessel for this child; I was so very young when I was abducted, and I've never remembered much of that night amongst the stars. Jung believes that he was made from alien DNA that I stole from work; I told him this lie out of necessity, for I am certain he would find the less-than-consensual nature of his conception to be disturbing.

You need not worry that I find it disturbing, however. A species who is desperate for survival must resort to desperate measures; this I understand completely. I am only surprised that you chose a female vessel, for I had heard that males were the preferred organism for nurturing the spawn of your kind.

Many hours of the day are spent honing Jung's mind into a fine instrument. I have been teaching him the ways of the chess master, and he has picked up the game aptly. Over the chess board I often quiz him about his schoolwork, just to task his mind further. He has advanced to the point where can easily recite Plate while at the same time contemplating his next move. He also never, ever cheats.

During our last chess game, he interrupted my own move with some rather probing questions about Sim sexual relations. He asked me when I had experienced my first WooHoo, and expressed much anticipation in undergoing this rite himself.

Naturally, I did not tell him the unusual circumstances under which my first WooHoo occurred.

Instead, I suggested that perhaps thoughts of WooHoo and girls could wait until he attends University, knowing, of course, that he will be far too busy with 20-plus credit hours to woo (or hoo!) any young ladies.

Til now, Jung has always struck me as quite asexual (a trait he inherited from both of us, perhaps). I worry, however, that the plethora of skanks in this town have turned his eye to the baser of Sim behaviors. I am not a prude in the least, but to run oneself ragged chasing down a bit of WooHoo seems such an unbearable waste of both time and talents.

~~Though I do wish I remembered~~

Another possibility is that Jung has entered something of a rebellious phase. I am positive he knows that I wish him to concentrate on school and skill-building, those things that matter most, and yet he persists in bringing girls home with him on the school bus. First it was those wayward Boxcar girls, and now it's some bit of blond cream-puff whose name escapes me. I don't believe she would be considered attractive by anyone's standards, but she has thrown herself in front of our son (in my presence, no less!) and he, in turn, is thoroughly smitten.

In effort to scare her away from the premises for good, I pinned her to the spot with a few well-chosen verbal barbs.

"Admit that you are no more than a Philistine!" I demanded, with a wry smile upon my face. "And that you have never once pondered the intimation of immortality!"

She drew away, alarmed by my words, which must have sounded more Jibberish than Simlish to her ignorant ears.

I'm afraid that my joust did not do the job, unfortunately. She still shows up almost every afternoon, cooing the most insipid things and insisting that Jung feed her across the table as one would an infant or baby bird. Perhaps she'll next ask him to chew up her sandwich and spit it into her mouth directly.

When she approached me for a handshake, I foolishly thought she was offering some kind of truce. Instead, she jolted me with some kind of cheap buzzing device bought from a joke store.

And then her behavior grew even more disturbing. She began walking in on me during my most private moments, glaring wordlessly all the while. When I asked her what she wanted, she refused answer with anything other than a scowl. Unnerving, to say the least.

Her scowl turned into shouts when she one day took it upon herself to physically assault me, poking me hard in the center of the chest and asking me if my blouse was ruffled to "hide my sagging tits." Of course I didn't dignify her with an answer.

I would point these transgressions out to Jung, but they only occur when he is out of the room, and I don't think he's prepared to think the worst of his girlfriend just yet.

Where do young girls learn such uncivilized behavior? Too much television? Parents in absentia? Who is to say? I do not study adolescent psychology; otherwise, I would investigate the matter further. Perhaps I will be inclined to make a hobby of it one day.

The demonic girlfriend was around so often that I began to wish Jung would invite some of his old friends over again. Before I could think to suggest it to him, one of them showed up at our door, without her usual pair of sisters in tow. Imagine my surprise when I overheard Jung excuse himself from not having called her in a few weeks, owing to the fact that he'd been traveling on holiday. Such an outright lie from our son! Why did he not tell her the truth, I wondered.

I thought perhaps he was embarrassed to admit to the Boxcar girl that he'd replaced her and her sisters with an unattractive and mentally-disturbed girlfriend, but I was proven wrong when he introduced the two of them to each other.

Jung then clasped his girlfriend's hands in front of the young Boxcar, flirting in plain view. From where I eavesdropped it wasn't clear whether or not it pained Miss Boxcar to witness the romantic exchange.

Later, though, she did manage to corner Jung for what she thought was a private conversation. From the kitchen I only overheard a little, but I gathered that the Boxcar girl had endured some troubles with a sister as of late. Perhaps it was trouble that Jung knew of, for he looked distinctly uncomfortable--almost ashamed--during their chat, as if he were experiencing guilt.

When she left they hugged very cautiously, as if not sure whether they would continue to be friends of not. Hmmm.

In case you should be interested in not only Jung's life, but my own, I will here report briefly on what I have been up to since I last wrote. I have continued along the path of the mad scientist, building my logic skills whenever time allows.

My forays into robotics have been more amusing than impressive, I'm afraid, but I persist just the same. I find that the work soothes me.

Occasionally I get so wrapped up in work that I forget to pay the bills, even though we have ample funds to pay them. The Repo-man came just the other day, removing an antique mirror from a rarely-used room as compensation for my fiscal failures.

As I sat in that rarely-used room, pondering the lost mirror, I realized that the space was quite a good one to let go unused. It was up high on the third floor, which was only used by me, for sleeping, and by those who wanted to play or practice the piano.

The windows are also barred, though I cannot imagine that anyone would be fool enough to try to climb from a third-story window, no matter what the circumstances.

Our son's disturbed girlfriend is not the only adolescent I would like to perform a psychological study of. There is one angry young man who has taken to kicking over our trash bin on a daily basis, for no good reason that I can see. He even dares to do it in my presence, with no fear of retribution. That is the problem, really--ours is a world of consequences, but people behave as if they are immune to them. It's quite fascinating, really. What is it that compels Sims to disregard consequence?

As for my own actions, I never carry them out without full comprehension of the consequences that may or may not result. In fact, in the case of some actions you might even say that I court the consequences.

And now I believe I have rambled on long enough; I'm sure you have little patience for the musings of a Sim, even one of stronger mental stock than most.

Sometimes, I do wonder if I might one day ramble to you in person. Is this a shockingly mundane confession? If so, I hope you will forgive me it.

~~Love~~
~~Fondly~~
~~Yours~~

Until next time,
Gertrude Woolf

***

Chapter Two of the Jedi Brothers is next!