You can tell the time of day by looking at the traffic flow at the library.
You regard ibuprofen as a vitamin.
You carry at least three bags to campus.
You respond out loud to whatever you’re reading, as if the text could hear you.
You live below the poverty line—by choice.
You are on a first-name basis with the night-shift janitorial crew of your academic building.
You eat the garnishes on the snack tables at conferences because that is the only time you have access to fresh fruit.
You are staying in school simply to avoid paying off the tens of thousands of dollars you owe the government in student loans.
You think communicating with God would be cited under “interview.”
Your significant other (who’s not a grad student) says that they thought your Chicago Manual of Style was about fashion.
Your roommate forgets she has a roommate but wonders where all the peanut butter has gone.
Free food is the highlight of your day.
Sleeping in means waking up at 8:30.
You are startled to meet people who neither need, nor want to read.
You can identify universities by their Internet domains.
You are constantly looking for theses in novels.
Your have a favorite flavor of instant noodle.
You cancel your cable to pay your photocopy bill.
You actually take the time to compile a “you might be a grad student if …” list.
You are reading this.