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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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... to losing weight is that eventually you have to buy new clothes.
Chicks live for that shit. It's like, [falsetto voice] "Whooohoo!!! I just lost 10 pounds so I can go clothes shopping!"
With me (and, I suspect, most guys who bother to lose weight), it's like, "Holy cow, I just lost 45 pounds. Now I have to go fucking clothes shopping."
That's right, first I waited until I lost 45 pounds; then and only then do I even consider braving retail stores, or even the Internet.
See, there are two things going on here. First, I have 45 more pounds to lose, at which point I'll have to go clothes shopping again. And, second, if I gain the weight back (and I'm just pessimistic enough to believe I will; after all, I put it on in the first place), then I'm just going to have to go back to wearing my current clothes.
But I'm faced with the real fact that people are starting to stare at my jeans all bunched up at the waist with a belt that's a bit too long itself, its loose end dangling a foot down like a second cock (only smaller) if I don't remember to tuck it back under. And if I don't wear the belt, I'll have to buy one of those enormous t-shirts like the gangbangers wear, because I'll be walking around with the waist of my pants around my knees.
I'm seriously considering eating a couple of pizzas and chasing it with some beer so I can put off the shopping. I mean, seriously.
But no. If for no other reason than it puts less stress on my spucking fine, I need to at least keep myself at my current weight - and, preferably, suck it up and lose the next 45.
Damn, but I hate shopping for clothes.
I mean hate. |
© 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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