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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.
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Yeah, I know it's been a while. I didn't want to do this last week, because it was just too new to me, but now's the time, I suppose.
The title of this entry refers to a previous one, "Endgame" .
A week ago today, Dad died peacefully in his bed. While I didn't get there in time, a very nice hospice nurse was there with him, so at least he didn't die alone - for whatever that's worth, insofar as all of us die alone. Unless we get blown up by a suicide bomber in a crowded mall, or somesuch.
Now, I want to die in bed, too, but what I mean by that is when I'm 95 or thereabouts I want to be shot in the head by a jealous husband.
His stated wish, from 'way before he began to feel the effects of Alzheimer's, was to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Part of what I was doing last week was trying to fulfill that wish; on Friday, I found out that it would happen. So, toward the end of the month, he'll be buried with full military honors in what might be the most famous cemetery in the world, alongside presidents and generals, but not near my mom, who's buried in New York.
So, that's it. Ninety and a half years of life, from New Orleans and several times around the world to come to rest in his adopted state of Virginia, not even fifty miles from the home he built.
I've got a newsletter to do, now. Comedy, this week. Yes, I can still laugh - how could I not? Then, later this week, I should be able to take care of some of my other obligations on the site, like the contest I'm supposed to be running. Life goes on, and I'm going to live it. |
© 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.
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