Not for the faint of art. |
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. |
Today's spin of the roulette wheel (which is actually redundant, as roulette is probably translated as little wheel, so that would make it a little wheel wheel) brought me all the way back to January of 2007, not long after I started this blog. And it demonstrates why I've never really gotten anywhere with my writing: "Procrastination" I've been kicking myself for procrastination for far longer than that, though, but have never managed to stop actually procrastinating. As I've finally recognized it as a core feature of my personality, I've now given up trying to change. Or, I don't know. I keep meaning to. Maybe next week. As for the entry itself, it begins with what's now an Invalid Item link. What used to be there was a Daily Writing Challenge, which was an activity I found useful in prodding me to complete daily writing exercises. As I recall, it started out with just a few words, and gradually worked up to 2000. Kind of like that guy who lifted a calf every day. The calf kept growing, but he didn't notice because he got stronger. Until, one day, he's walking around with a full-grown ox on his shoulders. Left out of that story was how the ox might have felt about being used that way, but I imagine it's better than being yoked to a plow. Oh, yeah, Milo of Croton was the dude's name. I think he was a real person, but the ox thing was almost certainly mythological. From the entry: I'm sitting here procrastinating. I know once I get into the writing, it'll go fairly smoothly. Still, I'm putting it off like I always do with stuff. I had hoped I would learn better by now. Nope, Younger Me: you never do learn better. You just learn to live with it. Oh, and then there's the Fiction Writing class I signed up for. It begins Monday, and runs for like 9 weeks, once a week. I vaguely remember that class. It was a continuing education thing at the university. I remember they sneered at me for writing science fiction. Snooty lit-snob poseurs. Okay. Enough with the procrastination. Time to write. Well, maybe some dinner first... Anyone else writes that, I assume they're joking. I was not. That is truly how my mind works. Or, well... doesn't. |