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. |
The article I'm playing with today is quite old by internet standards, dated all the way back in 2013. It's likely that a few things have changed since then—but not human nature. Funny thing about "deserved:" I, for one, would hate to have fame. A bit more reach for my writing, maybe, but I don't want the spotlight or red carpet or cameras in my face or any of that crap. If I became famous, and someone told me I "deserved" it, I'd ask what sin I committed to make me deserve that kind of nonsense. We humans are storytelling and story-finding machines: homo narrativus, if you will. I most certainly will not. Not that I disagree with the storytelling bit. It's one reason I'm here. Just stop with the faux binomials already. In our everyday, human stories, far away from science, we have a limited (if generous) capacity to entertain randomnessāwe are certainly not homo probabilisticus. I can only assume this author is a specimen of homo annoyingcuss. We also instinctively build our stories around individuals. Yeah, that's, like, so basic you have to know it before even getting accepted into Writing 101. Both stories tether the complex, stochastic narrative of the larger population to that of an individual. We canāt blame the Times here: This kind of narrative works. We can put ourselves into that personās mind, walk in their shoes, and travel in their story. That's a lot of words to rephrase that a thousand deaths are a statistic, while one death is a tragedy. I'm not going to quote a lot more, here. The basic argument seems to be that fame is due more to the characteristics of the people who make someone or something famous, rather than some intrinsic quality of the famous person or thing. And the author (who, as far as I know, isn't famous) lays out a decent case for that, but it gets kinda long and maybe even a bit mathy. Mathive? Yeah, I'm going to go with mathive, as in it was a mathive pain in the butt to read all that. So just one more, then: The data implies that there is no such thing as fate, only the story of fate. This idea is encoded in the etymology of the word: āfateā derives from the Latin fatus, meaning āspokenāātalk that is doneāin direct opposition to the root of āfame,ā which is fÄma, meaning ātalk.ā Retreating to etymology when in doubt about a concept is a trick of mine, too. But I like to think that when I do it, it makes more sense than trying to tease out the difference between "spoken" and "talk." Even if the difference is one of past vs. present continuous tenses (which that quote seems to imply), that's hardly "direct opposition." Of course, it may be that I'm missing something. But you know what I'm not missing? Being famous. |