Tuesday, March 1


Statistics, or 'Stats' as it likes you to call it as if it was on old mate from high school, is the sort of subject which is spoken of in hushed and sighing ways. I've never tried to pass Stats, I've never been to more than one lecture before, but I am sure Stats is the sort of subject that sees you bathing in Detol and scrubbing yourself with a wire brush the moment it's over.

Stats is a core subject for Business students, you can get away from it; and it's also the sort of subject that you have to do well in to pass, you can't hope to arse your way through it and nail down a 50/100. Stats requires six months of attention and focus - only for you to promptly forget the detail of the course 13.5 minutes following the final exam (possibly during the Detol bath, possibly after).

I've enrolled to do stats four times now, in each other the last three semesters I have subsequently dropped it. I like to tell myself that it's because I'm overloaded with other work and university commitments and wont have the time to "dedicate" myself to the subject - the reality is that I'm scared shitless of the text book and it's mixed bag of numerical trickery.

Stats sounds shit before you even walk into a lecture, everyone talks it down. It looks shit the second you see the massive blue text book stacked with formulae containing half the greek alphabet and the sadomasochistic wonder of 'to the power of 243' values. I have the same text book I purchased for it two years ago, I still haven't opened it. It's pretty messed up that one of my major goals for the year is to just open a book.

Yesterday was my first lecture in Stats for this year - true to form I received a photocopied subject outline (which goes nicely with the other three Stats subject outlines I have) - and then spent the rest of the lecture in a kind of daze, paying attention to what was being said, and kinda slipping in and out of a random daydream about Survivor Palau.

It's dismaying that my main concern of my first lecture for 2005 is whether or not the cute brunette sitting two seats along from me to my right thinks that the screaming pile of body odour emanating from the largish guy sitting two seats to my left was in fact coming from me. Statistically I'd describe this guy as:

"Smells > is acceptable in public without some sort of glandular condition as an excuse."

I mean, come on, I can't have some dude with lackluster personal hygiene cramping my mojo with girls who have no idea I exist.

Damnit ... I already hate stats.


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