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. |
And another from "JAFBG" [XGC]: What minor inconvenience drives you fucking mad? I think I'm one of those people who freak all out of proportion when something minor happens, but if it's major -- like when my car got totaled -- I tend to stay cool and focus on dealing with the problem. I'm sure there have been exceptions to this, especially on the "minor problem" side. If I'm in the right mood, I can brush it off. But there's one thing that really shouldn't bother me as much as it does, and that's clothing pricks. No, I don't mean douchebags who wear shitty fashion. I mean, like, I put on a T-shirt and something in the seam or whatever irritates my skin. There's a tiny pokey thread, or whatever, and it digs into my skin, but when I go to look for it, I can't see anything. And then I put the shirt back on and it continues to be irritating. This is absolutely rage-inducing, especially when I'm in a hurry and I have to dig through the clean laundry basket (don't judge; I'm a single man) to find a different shirt, hopefully one without stray pokey things. Worse, of course, is when the problem doesn't manifest until I've thoroughly left the house. I'll be sitting there at the movie theater, munching on popcorn, enjoying the flick (or not, which is also enjoyable because I can then rehearse how I'll rag on it in a one-sentence movie review), and there it is, like a needle scratching at my skin. It's enough to turn a four-star movie into a three-star movie. "Loved the action sequences and seamless CGI, but my goddamned shirt was all scratchy." Then I have to walk home after the movie's over with a shirt that has obviously come to hate me for making it sit through a stupid action movie. And then when I look at the area, there's maybe some redness, but no actual pinholes. So maybe my skin is hypersensitive, or maybe I should quit buying cheap-ass T-shirts -- still, after doing a load of laundry, that particular shirt doesn't bug me anymore, but another one, one I have never had problems with, starts doing the pokey thing. Speaking of movies, I was really hoping to go see Licorice Pizza, but apparently it's out of the local theater now. Not a lot of point in finding it on streaming; the whole reason I go is to experience the movie on a big screen, with other people, and to drink beer. I meant to go last week, but a bunch of stuff kept getting in the way. Hopefully the snow we got -- which wasn't even anywhere close to the predicted foot -- will melt enough that I can walk over there sometime this week to see... I don't know. Something. I'll just have to give myself enough time to change shirts before I go, just in case. |