Statistics is a necessary science, but it will suck your soul if you let it. My professor is young and eager and, as some might say, genki, but even he can't make those probabilities pique my interest. No, this is something that I have to do myself.
When in Statistics, I've found that I can best stay sane by devising inane stories for the symbols we're taught. I try to keep these to myself, but sometimes I like to bother my desk-mate. For example, yesterday we learned about P hat (yes, that is a technical term) and had the following, VERY exciting conversation:
Me: What kind of hat do you think that P is wearing?
J (Rapidly taking notes): Um . . .
Me: I mean, is it a beret? Or a sombrero? Or one of those hats that people picking rice in China wear? I think it's a beret.
J (no longer taking notes): Oh, definitely a beret. For sure. P-hat also kind of looks like he's carrying a baguette.
Me: Hoh-hoh! Is he riding a moped?
J: Oui-oui! And smoking a cigarette!
Me (disapointed): Actually, Monsieur P chooses not to smoke. It was a good try on your part, though.
Unfortunately, this whispered conversation caused me to miss the explanation of what P hat means. So, while I remember his name and shall hereafter fondly think of him as Monsieur P, in Statistical notation he means nothing to me.
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