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Complex Numbers
Complex Numbers
A complex number is expressed in the standard form a + bi, where a and b are real numbers and i is defined by i^2 = -1 (that is, i is the square root of -1). For example, 3 + 2i is a complex number.
The bi term is often referred to as an imaginary number (though this may be misleading, as it is no more "imaginary" than the symbolic abstractions we know as the "real" numbers). Thus, every complex number has a real part, a, and an imaginary part, bi.
Complex numbers are often represented on a graph known as the "complex plane," where the horizontal axis represents the infinity of real numbers, and the vertical axis represents the infinity of imaginary numbers. Thus, each complex number has a unique representation on the complex plane: some closer to real; others, more imaginary. If a = b, the number is equal parts real and imaginary.
Very simple transformations applied to numbers in the complex plane can lead to fractal structures of enormous intricacy and astonishing beauty.
November 4, 2018 at 12:33am November 4, 2018 at 12:33am
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The noughties were a strange time for me.
I have a hard time letting go of the past. I've said it before, but all the "living for the present" rhetoric doesn't ring true for me; by the time you register something as being in the present, it's already in the past.
"Noughties" was my coinage, by the way. No one else seems to know what to call the first decade of the 21st century. Nothing else fits, so "noughties" it is - any year of the format 200* gets shortened to 0* and is, therefore, the noughties. It never caught on, partly, I think, because I'm utter crap at self-promotion. (Yes, I know that decades begin at the year ending with 1 and end 10 years later at the end of the year ending with 0, but popular usage works otherwise, so I'm sticking with that.)
But I digress. By 2004, my mother had been gone for five years, and my father was effectively gone, though it would be another four years before his body joined his mind. I was married, but otherwise adrift - I'd quit my job of 15 years and gone to work for someone else in the same field, but the change was still a difficult thing for me.
Having always had a thing for writing, it was in that year - 2004 - that I joined Writing.com. I don't know how it is for other people, but for me, whenever I told someone that I wanted to write and get published, they'd look at me like I was an alien. Or maybe they just felt pity for me, because getting published might as well be winning the lottery. Or they just figured there's no way an engineer can also be a fiction writer, possibly for reasons I touched on in my entry about knowledge and creativity a few days ago.
Thing is, I didn't have that problem here. Mostly everyone else on this site is in a similar situation - loves to write, isn't exactly Stephen King.
I learned stuff about writing. It's a mad, complicated process that it's impossible to get perfect at. As with cooking, there's always something more to learn, something else to incorporate. But that's not why I stuck around.
I stuck around because I made friends.
I'm not going to list them here, because, inevitably, I'll miss someone and they'll feel left out. But you know who you are, especially if I've met you in person. Hell, I've traveled all over the country and beyond meeting WDC people. There are experiences I'd probably never have had without the people I've met here, including sampling wines in California, seeing the final Space Shuttle launch (sort of), and staying in a house in England that's older than my country.
And I'm happy to add new experiences and people to the list, especially if you buy me beer. |
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