|
About This Author
Come closer.
|
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 13, 2007 at 9:21pm November 13, 2007 at 9:21pm
| |
Thanksgiving is sneaking up on us this year.
It's early in the month, of course, but still, it doesn't yet feel like it should be Thanksgiving.
We have several friends who don't have families - at least, not nearby - and so will spend next Thursday all alone in the dark. I had the brilliant idea that we could have a small get-together on Friday for these folks (Kirstin does have family nearby, albeit in Lynchburg, which is never my favorite place to visit), complete with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and all the other food that's often associated with Thanksgiving.
At first I got the incredulous attitude, like I've never cooked before, let alone a turkey. Then, when I finally managed to remind people that I do cook (I haven't been, because I've been trying and failing to lose weight), I'm still not getting any positive feedback.
I may just say, "Fuck it," even though it's something I really want to do. I'm not some tireless housewife who trudges on thanklessly; I'm a guy with too few talents - one of them just happens to be cooking. And if I'm not appreciated, I'll just as easily spend the day doing one of the only other thing I'm halfway good at: writing. Or drinking. I've gotten much better at that, recently. Better yet, both, and find support for my theory that a BAC of between 0.038 and 0.040 is ideal for writing creatively. Probably better for me to nuke some goddamn diet food anyway.
I shouldn't have made that chili a couple weeks back. It just made me want to cook something else all the more. I learned to cook, by the way, as a form of survival - my mother was a terrible cook, and my dad knew like three recipes, all of which involved rare and disgusting ingredients. Might have been better for me had I not even bothered - since it's not a traditional gender role, I get funny looks about it anyway; and besides, food makes me fat. I should have instead developed a taste for sports so I could sit on my ass in the living room while the womenfolk slaved in the kitchen. And brought me beers.
Not that my wife's not a good cook - she absolutely is. We just don't cook much around here. Cleaning is too much work.
Everything is too much work, anymore. I'd rather sit on my ass, anyway. |
© Copyright 2025 Robert Waltz (UN: cathartes02 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Robert Waltz has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|