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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.
December 25, 2018 at 12:32am December 25, 2018 at 12:32am
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The tradition on Christmas, I believe, is to post something happy and uplifting, some sort of paean to the best side of human nature and to hope for the future.
I should hope you know me better than that.
https://getpocket.com/explore/item/the-day-dostoyevsky-discovered-the-meaning-of...
One November night in the 1870s, legendary Russian writer Fyodor Dostoyevsky (November 11, 1821–February 9, 1881) discovered the meaning of life in a dream — or, at least, the protagonist in his final short story did.
What is the polar opposite of everything that is happy and uplifting? Russian literature, of course.
Not that I've actually read any. Well, I did once read The Master and Margarita, but apart from that, I settle for excerpts like what you have here.
But that fatalistic, profoundly hopeless style appeals to me, and perhaps I'll tackle Dostoyevsky at some point, or maybe Tolstoy because what the hell, right?
Anyway, that article I linked quotes Dostoyevsky extensively and kind of sums up a lot of the existential issues I've been dealing with here. Dreams. Depression. Emotions. Symbolism. Questioning everything.
And yet...
And yet, reading through to the end, something else happens. Something, perhaps, not very Russian at all, but something that maybe touches on, if not the meaning of life, at least a reason to live.
I don't believe there is a meaning of life. Or, rather, I believe that we must impose our own meaning upon it - or not, as suits each of us. Me, I long ago abandoned the idea of "meaning" or "purpose" or "goals" and just started living.
I'm not sure if that was the best course of action. But I'm not about to give up on it now.
(Please don't say "42" in the comments. One, I've already thought of it; two, 42 is the Answer to the Ultimate Question, not the meaning of life.) |
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