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 |    Not for the faint of art. |
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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. ![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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| Tell us the story of your name. How and why was it chosen? You can choose to talk about your real name, your WDC username, or even your handle if you like! I don't know if I've ever explained my username. As I mentioned a couple entries ago, I'm not going to divulge my legal name here. Suffice it to say that my parents bestowed it upon me. Nor am I ready to reveal how I chose my pen name. But I will talk about my login. It's really quite simple: I admire turkey vultures. You could say they're my spirit animal. Oh, sure, they're ugly as fuck, and no one wants to be around them. Right there would be enough for me to identify with them. But there's more. Vultures serve an important purpose in the ecosystem. They remove that which would otherwise contaminate the land - the organic detritus of what was once living. By doing so, they actually clean up the place. Hence their species name - cathartes aura - or "golden purifier." Few appreciate what they do, or even understand how essential it is, but they do it anyway. Yes, they devour the dead - as do we all. More, they seem to fly just for the hell of it. Because they can. They're awkward getting started, but once they're aloft, they appear to fly just for the pleasure of flying. In doing so, though, they expend the least possible amount of energy for the greatest reward. There's a common misconception, perpetuated by decades of shoddy screenwriting, that vultures circle over that which is about to die. Well, if they're gyrating over a soon-to-be-corpse, it's by coincidence - what they're doing is taking advantage of updrafts, the rising of heated air. They'll seek out these updrafts and use them to gain altitude so they don't have to flap their wide wings. In fact, they try not to flap at all, preferring to glide. Their propensity to expend minimal effort for maximum gain is another reason I identify with them. Don't flap your wings; find an updraft. Leave the whole "chasing prey" thing to more ambitious carnivores; be satisfied with what's left over. Likewise, why take on the risk of injury, chasing prey that might have defenses or competing with others who have sharp claws, teeth, or beaks, when your whole evolution has enabled you to avoid those hazards? That which is ugly can, sometimes, become beautiful when you look at it the right way. Every once in a while, I feel like I should change my username. I've never liked having the "02" tacked on; that was an artifact of having trouble creating an account here, back in the noughties. But you might say I'm too lazy to bother. I'm fine just gliding along, for now. |
| If you were a fighter pilot in the Navy or Air Force, what would be your Call Sign? Why? There's a disconnect here between what reality and what I would want. No big surprise there. I almost joined the military. My choice would have been Navy. I had a letter signed by that asshole Reagan's rubber stamp, recommending me for a position in Annapolis. For various reasons, mostly having to do with being lazy, I chose a civilian path instead. Also keep in mind that, at the time, Vietnam was still a festering, pustule-ridden wound in my country's psyche; it would be another year or two before Born in the USA came out, just in time for that shitcock Reagan to completely misinterpret Springsteen's message and act like it was some sort of patriotic paean. But the repercussions were still fresh in our minds, along with the constant threat of a nuclear exchange with the USSR. Just in case I'm being subtle about it, I didn't trust the President to not embroil us in another quagmire. So I bailed. Anyway, the point is, "fighter pilot" wasn't something I aspired to. As I recall, my ambitions were more on the ground, or possibly ocean - as an engineer or technician. The idea of designing ships and airplanes, or their systems, was more interesting to me than the idea of piloting them. Consequently, though it would be cool to have a pilot call sign like "Star Lord" or "Sky Walker" or "Speed Demon" - or something along those lines - I don't think I'd have any choice in the matter. It'd probably have ended up being something like "Nerd Geek." And that's why I'd never have fit in as a fighter pilot. |
| Tell us about the pet you had for the longest amount of time or the one that made the most significant impact on you. If you have never had a pet (I’m sorry), what pet would you want? She was empathetic enough to know when I was down and would comfort me. While she could often be annoying, begging for walks or demanding to be fed, when she was happy she made me happy. Rare was the time that she didn't climb into bed with me at night. Though she often required more attention than I was able to provide - long work hours and all that - she mostly was able to keep herself from wrecking the house in my absence. We had a good ten years together, but I don't really miss my ex-wife. |
| How is your online persona different from your real world persona? How much attention do you pay to your personal privacy when communicating with others online? I'm funnier online. Mostly, this is because I have some time to think about jokes before I post them anywhere. Partly, it's because I have some social anxiety. Not enough to be crippling, but enough so that I'm a bit guarded with people I don't know very well. Don't get me wrong; I like meeting people and socializing. Booze helps, as it does with many things. I'm just more comfortable with technology, usually. Still, what you see here is pretty much what you get. With one caveat: like I said in a previous entry, I'm a bit of a chameleon, altering my persona based on the people I'm with. While I've rarely done stand-up comedy, I like to think of this as reading the audience. That's one thing that's actually easier for me to do in person; here on the internet, I have to imagine the audience and their possible reactions, while in person, I can see instantly when someone is bored, relaxed, attentive, or judgemental. Or whatever. As for personal privacy, the truth is, Robert Waltz isn't my legal name. I don't use it to hide, necessarily, or to escape responsibility for what I write; it's part of the long literary tradition of pen names. But because my actual name is unique - I mean, literally unique; I'm the only one out of 7 billion+ people with my particular name - it would be too easy for someone with ill intent to find out enough about me to cause problems. That said, I don't worry about that too much. I've been hanging around the internet for 25 years or so, and the only time anyone's ever scammed me has been when I've used credit cards in person. I don't think I'll ever understand why some people are wary about not using credit cards online, but think nothing of handing one to a restaurant server to take away and do Dionysus-knows-what with. I will add one other thing - I've met many people from Writing.com, and if I'm meeting someone in person, I don't hesitate to use my real name. I'm not trying to con anyone, myself, and the least I can do to demonstrate this is to be up front about who I am. In return, I have to trust that they'll keep my real name off the internet. It's purely a matter of protecting myself from possible online scammers. So, I'm just me, the same combination of faults and virtues as anyone else, but never actively trying to con anyone. Maybe one day I'll explain how I chose my pen name. But today is not that day. |
| You and several friends are marooned on a desert island. Everyone is looking to you to lead. What are your first actions? Panting from the long swim, we all flopped onto the beach like turtles. After catching my breath, I surveyed the survivors. As the obvious leader, the others all looked to me for direction. "Okay," I said, getting to my feet. As I brushed the sand from my ruined trousers, I addressed the small group. "Priorities. Mike." "Sir?" "This is obviously a desert island. Find the stash of rum." "Yes, sir!" Mike jumped upright and began jogging along the stretch of golden sand, head searching side to side. "Now, the rest of you. As unexpected as this was, we did come prepared. Everyone has their five 'stranded on a desert island' CDs?" "Yep." "Uh huh." "Right here, boss." "Of course." The other six simply nodded. One by one, they struggled to standing positions. "Sharon?" Pulling some jewel cases from a pouch, Sharon read the titles. "Led Zeppelin, you know, the fourth album. Counting Crows, August and Everything After..." I cut her off with a gesture. "Good enough. You're the cook." "Excellent," she smiled. "Kenneth?" "Eagles, Hotel California. Meat Loaf, Bat out of Hell. Jethro Tull, Songs from the Wood..." "Yep," I interrupted. "You're in charge of shelter." "Will do." He loped off toward the treeline. "Ellen?" "Um... Coldplay, X&Y. Dave Matthews Band, Everyday. Nickelback-" "Stop," I commanded. "Ugh. Ellen, you're dinner." "But I-" "Report to Sharon." "Aw." "Now, where was I? Steve." Steve opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Mike returned, lugging an iron-bound chest on one shoulder, sand still clinging to its bottom half. "Found the rum!" he announced. "Okay, never mind. We'll go over discs later." Mike started distributing bottles. Ann turned to me. "Um, Robert?" "Yeah?" "Did, um... did anyone bring a CD player?" They all looked at me. "D'oh," I said. |
| What was the biggest news in your life from last year? I didn't die. Yep, that's about where I set the bar, these days. Oh, sure, I did stuff: traveling, gambling, drinking. Went to Nerd Camp, which was one of last year's highlights. I got to drive a Tesla, briefly, in December. Started blogging again, for some reason. My housemate got a new kitten. But nothing's fundamentally changed, for the better or for the worse. You know what? I like it that way. I've already achieved most of my goals in life, and what few remain, such as getting published, I'm ready to write off as a lost cause. Although I still have a few things I want to do, none of them ought to be life-changing, either. Things like doing a Scotch tour of Scotland and a beer tour of Belgium. Maybe spend a week in the Loire Valley of France drinking a variety of Vouvray. Hm, I sense a theme, here. Technically, I could do any of those things at any time, but while I don't mind traveling alone, I don't really want to travel by myself to a foreign country where I don't know anybody (I traveled alone to England once, but stayed with friends). Want to know the trick to achieving all your goals in life? Aim low. I know the common wisdom is the exact opposite of that, but look: the common wisdom is generally crap designed to sell advertising space. It's meant to keep you unfulfilled, like there's always something better just around the corner. They're not really trying to help you; they're trying to help Apple and Wells Fargo. Because of that sort of thing, people seem to believe that happiness is about having what you want. It's not. It's about wanting what you have. So anyway, the point is, I didn't achieve any milestones last year besides Not Dying. I consider that a big win. But I had some great experiences, hung out with cool people, and generally enjoyed life. Nothing's changed, but that's the way I want it. |
| Write about a time you learned something new. Use and highlight at least 3 words in your entry that are not part of your normal vocabulary and provide your readers with definitions for those words. I try to learn something new every day. Many people do, of course. Others actively resist learning, dismissing any new information as inaccurate or false. To be fair, it's not easy to change one's worldview, and new information tends to do that. New facts become baragouin to them: meaningless, irrelevant. Not me - I want to delve deeper and learn more. When you're a kid, learning comes naturally, like breathing or running. My running days are far behind me, but I do try to keep that childlike openness to new ideas. I'm not talking about jnana , either; I mean real, objective facts. As a counterpoint, though, I'm essentially lazy, so it's more of a hobby for me than an obsession. I've told this story before, I know, but I don't remember where or when: in 7th grade, I had a science teacher who insisted that the Earth's gravity was induced by its rotation; in other words, if the planet were to stop rotating, we'd all float off like balloons. I think she was confused by reading science fiction where a space station rotated to create artificial gravity through centripetal force. (No, I'm not defining "centripetal." I'm an engineer. That's been part of my vocabulary for a very long time.) Nothing I said would change her assertion; after all, what knowledge could a 7th grader possibly have that a seasoned public school science teacher did not? Never mind that I was reading better science fiction. Point is, I learned something that day, even though it was not what she intended to teach: that teachers can be wrong, not just about their opinions on whether or not I should goof off in class (they've always been wrong about that), but about actual, physical facts. Ever since then, I try not to trust just one source for anything. That said, Wikipedia is not nearly as untrustworthy as some people make it out to be. Sure, errors creep in, but I remember one study that showed it was about as accurate as a printed encyclopedia. You could say that Wikipedia is a hodiernal encyclopedia, and much grander in scope. So when you learn something, always keep in the back of your mind that it could be wrong. I don't care if the source is a teacher, the internet, or your parents. Or me, for that matter. We're all unreliable narrators. It's just as important to be willing to change your worldview in the face of new information as it is to want to learn new things. For example, I used the new-to-me word "hodiernal" up there, but I can't be sure I used it correctly. Does "the present day" mean, specifically, 5 January 2019? Or the more general present-day with its technological and social milieu? This is not clear to me. The adjective seems to mostly be used in connection with tenses in writing, though, so I'll be sure to explore it further. When I'm not feeling quite so lazy. (Incidentally, for anyone who wants to seek out new words and new vocabularizations, I found this  to be essential for creating this entry.) |
| Make a prediction for how technology will advance in the next 18 years. Science fiction is the most important genre. I don't mean space opera, though those can be fun. I mean actual science fiction. It helps us come to terms with both technological advances and social change. A while back, I came across this bit: https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-46736024 That wasn't the link I first found, though it describes it well enough, I think. To summarize, back in 1983, Asimov gazed into his crystal ball and came up with what 2019 might look like. Being a science fiction writer and science communicator, his crystal ball was probably sharper than most. Hell, I distinctly remember thinking in 1983 that we'd have generation ships headed for Alpha Centauri or some other "nearby" system by now. And don't get me started again on flying cars. But Asimov got a surprising number of things right. What's even more interesting than what they get right, in my opinion, was what prognosticators get wrong. For example, when I was a kid, a staple trope in science fiction was the video call. The way this was presented was invariably that it would be just like a land-line telephone, only with a video link included. As I recall, some folks actually tried to make that a reality, but the general public, who don't bother to read science fiction, could only think about how that would invade privacy, and it never went anywhere. So instead, we developed video phone technology from the back end: through computers. By the time computers got powerful enough for things like skype, though, many of them didn't use phone lines. In fact, there wasn't the whole "dialing" thing at all - just a protocol that enabled voice/video transmission and receiving. What's even more interesting now is that we all carry phones with us wherever we go, and we even call them phones (in the US anyway; the UK calls them "mobiles," which is a far better name), but we hardly ever make actual phone calls with them. It's all texting or email. Incidentally, the video phone trope was far more prevalent in shows than in written fiction. This was mostly an easy way to view both actors' faces while they spoke remotely. Still happens, only there are a lot more holograms now. In the shows, I mean, not in reality. Which leads to the question: how much does science fiction predict the future, and how much does it inspire it? But that's a whole 'nother blog post. Or series thereof. Not going there tonight. So. To address the question. As most of you know, I follow science journalism sometimes, so I have some idea of the things they're working on: quantum computers, virtual reality, universal internet access, solar energy, stable controlled fusion power (which is about 20 years away, and has been 20 years away for the last half a century), gene editing, Mars colonies, nanotechnology, and more. I'd like to think that some of these things will become reality 18 years from now. Proably not fusion - that will be 20 years away then. But maybe the others, along with autonomous vehicles and maybe even death rays. But that's optimistic. After all, we still have nukes. And it's entirely possible that, 18 years from now, those few of you who remain might rediscover how to carve a wheel out of stone. |
| Are you an introvert or an extrovert? How do you recharge your batteries? I don't believe it's binary. That is, like many other human attributes such as gender and sexual orientation, I'm pretty sure there's a sliding scale. Not that I have any evidence to back it up; only nonscientific observation. Additionally, the classic portrayal of an introvert is rather unflattering and, worse, inaccurate. "Quiet guy. Kept to himself." They always say that about serial killers after they've been caught, and it makes it sound like that's the cause, rather than them being sociopaths or mentally ill. Mental illness, of course, also isn't an indicator that someone will go on a killing spree. I've been describing myself as an introvert for years. And, I suppose, given that I do need time alone to recover, I'd fall somewhere on that end of the spectrum. But otherwise, I'm not sure I'd fit the classic profile. I like meeting people. I have a few close friends, but I also have the attitude that almost anyone I meet is a potential friend, and I'm on good terms with a fair number of people that I couldn't consider close friends. Perhaps it's more that I've simply had to learn to like being alone, because I've had no other choice. I have no siblings (of which I'm aware, anyway). I grew upspent my childhood in a rural area, and the only other kids around, I wasn't allowed to play with. (My parents considered them a bad influence. Their parents considered me a bad influence. Go figure. One of those kids eventually ended up in prison for murder one, so perhaps we were bad influences on each other.) Anyway, point is, I had to find other ways to distract myself. Endless hours of solitaire. Reading books. Biking alone. Writing terrible poetry. Studying chess. Building model rockets. Making up my own games. When personal computers started to be a thing, I took to them like a moth to the flame. And I did, in fact, enjoy it all. It was only later that I realized that book-reading and game-playing were things that other people only did between social interactions; for me, they were my primary hobbies, interrupted by the tedium of having to deal with people. Still are, in fact. And yet... in the (unintelligible) years I've been around, I have never managed to live on my own for more than about a month. Always there were parents, then later college roommates, girlfriends, wives, or just friends who needed a place to crash. My work always involved bosses or business partners. Don't get me wrong; I like my current housemate just fine. We're good friends, and we (mostly) get along in terms of housework as well. Before she started living here, I had other housemates - again, friends who just needed a place to stay. But sometimes I just want to know if I can manage to live alone. Meanwhile, it's a perfectly good arrangement. The problem with other people is that they bring drama, and I despise drama (outside of fiction, of course). Yes, I know, this probably means that I'm the source of the drama. Whatever; I don't care. Doesn't change how I feel about it. So I limit my time with people. I usually travel alone. Weeks on the road, just me and my music in a car. Sometimes it'd be nice to have a companion for that, especially when I feel like having a couple of beers, but I wouldn't use someone just as a designated driver. Unless they wanted to get paid. Position's open, by the way. So, generally, I like most people. I just can't be "on" all the time, so I retreat. I guess I could take the Myers-Briggs, but the little I know about that has convinced me that I could answer it in such a way as to make it show any result I'd want. Or, more likely, as my perceptions change over time and sometimes day-to-day, even if I answered honestly, I'd have a different result depending on my mood. Or I'd think about how I'd like to be rather than how I am. Anyway. Point is, I can't really answer that question. Am I actually an introvert, or have I just learned to enjoy self-sufficiency? I suppose it doesn't matter. Functionally, I'm certainly not extroverted. Now, leave me alone. |
| I have mixed feelings about birthdays. Mine is in February. As I've noted before, February is my most hated month. Even though the days are getting noticeably longer then, it's still cold, and it contains the most hated day of all: Valentine's Day. Fortunately, my birthday is after that dreaded occasion, so there's less of that creepy blood-red decoration everywhere. Instead, stores start lining up for Easter. I'm no fan of pastels, either, but anything's better than crimson. After celebrating as many birthdays as I have, they all start to blend together. I know most of my adult birthdays have involved tequila. That's kind of an unintended tradition for me. It started on my 21st birthday. That is, for you foreigners, the first day one can legally purchase or drink tequila (or any other booze) in this benighted country. Now, at the time, I'd already been legally drinking beer and wine for two years. It was, as I recall, on my 19th birthday that my state passed a law raising the drinking age to 21 for everything (it didn't take effect until that June, and I was grandfathered in, anyway). Stupid fucking law - get 'em used to alcohol early, is what I say. It becomes less of a Thing that way, and you get less abuse later. But, in my neverending quest for alcohol positivity, I digress. The tradition, as dictated by my college housemates at the time, was to quaff 21 shots of tequila on one's 21st birthday. Now that... that's not something I'd recommend to anyone who hasn't practiced, and legally, you haven't practiced by then. Legally. Ahem. The problem was, though the bottle was labeled "tequila," and it was, by the laws of both Mexico and the US, tequila, it wasn't tequila; it was Cuervo Gold. See, to be tequila, it has to a) be at least 51% from agave and b) be manufactured in a particular region of Mexico. Anything with 51%+ agave made outside that area has to be called something else, usually mezcal (that's the one with the worm). Anything with less than 51% agave has to be called something else too, usually "disgusting rotgut that'll kill you." So Cuervo, attempting to make the cheapest shit possible that can still be called tequila, fills up the other 49% with Quetzalcoatl-knows-what, and adds caramel color to make it look somewhat like it's been aged in barrels the way the unpronounceable gods intended. Dammit, I'm digressing again. What I mean to say is, while that incident put me understandably off tequila for several years, I love real tequila, the stuff made from 100% agave. It comes in four basic varieties: Blanco, which is unaged; Reposado, which is aged a little bit; Anejo, which is aged at least 1 year, and Extra Anejo, which is aged 3+ years. DAMMIT. Birthdays. Right. I'm getting there. Ever since I discovered real tequila, which was significantly after my 21st birthday, it's been an important part of my birthday celebration. In margaritas. In shots from a ski along with friends while I was on the island of St. Thomas. (You heard right. A snow ski. On a tropical island. In February. Using Mexican liquor.) A flight of really good, really expensive Anejo tequilas in a local bar. A flight of not so expensive tequilas in a bar in Vegas. So, as you can imagine, all those birthdays kind of blend together. Therefore, none of them can be considered my most memorable birthday. That would be the one that didn't involve tequila and, instead, involved an IV drip in a hospital bed while recovering from the heart attack and resulting surgery I enjoyed on the evening before my birthday. Memorable, yes. But it sucked. And you can bet that as soon as I got out, there was only one thing I wanted, and fortunately, there's a tequila bar just a few blocks from the hospital. I mean, why mess with tradition? |
| What is your opinion of New Year’s Resolutions? Do you make them? Do you keep them? I think I've made my opinion quite clear. It's a very human desire, I think, to be able to start over, to forget the mistakes and failures of the past and, in the words of Hester Prynne, "begin all anew." Or something like that. I haven't read The Scarlet Letter since high school. That quote is about the only thing I remember from it, except for the idea that we can't really start over, that our mistakes follow us until we die, and sometimes beyond. Still, I'm not against self-improvement. I just tend to do it on a different time frame. My birthday, maybe, which is in February. Or, in the case of this - I mean, last - year, the solstice. That's when I made a commitment to myself to work on my health issues. It's been nearly five years since my heart attack, and I've had some success eating better and exercising, but it's been sporadic. I really, really need to lose weight. Not just because fatties get mocked, and not just because I don't fit into airplane seats anymore - no one fits into airplane seats anymore, except kids, and we don't need more of them on airplanes - but because I want to try to live a little longer and not get diabetes. It's actually a minor miracle that I'm not diabetic as it is. Anyway, so it wasn't a New Years resolution, but it was a solstice decision. I've been monitoring my calories and keeping them low, and walking more. I also didn't drink any booze. It's been working. I've lost weight. I did drink a glass of wine tonight; it is, after all, New Year's Eve. The problem is, the solstice is very close to New Year's. This is a problem because now, everyone else is trying to do the same thing I am, and if there's anything I hate, it's following trends. Worst part about it is, walking will only sustain me for a limited time. Eventually, if I manage to keep this up (absolutely unlikely), I'll need to go back to the gym. In January. When everyfuckingbody else is also doing the same thing. That's why I usually wait until my birthday to make these decisions. By then, everyone else has failed, and I practically have the gym to myself. Anyway, my hope is that this will also help with the depression. It has in the past, but then I fail, and I feel even worse because I've failed. I'll fail again, and I'll feel bad again. It's the circle of life. It will end when I'm dead. I'm just hoping that will be later rather than sooner. Maybe writing this here will help keep me honest. I doubt it, but it's worth a try. |
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