You know that everything your High school English teacher told you about grammar was wrong.
You don’t ask ‘what is the meaning of life’; you ask ‘what is the meaning of meaning’.
You know the difference between a pidgin and a Creole.
You eavesdrop constantly.
You know that English is related to Sanskrit.
You do not think that double negatives in English are bad.
You practically worship Noam Chomsky.
When you hear the word ‘tree’ you don’t immediately think of the thing with leaves.
You can read and write in IPA.
You spell ‘fish’ ‘g-h-i-o-t’.
You wake up at night thinking about X-bar theory.
You pity all non-linguists – poor things just don’t understand anything about anything.
Only other linguists understand your sense of humor.
You know that a word in isolation is meaningless.
You know that colorless green ideas do indeed sleep furiously.
You used to know what a word and sentence were; now you know that they don’t actually exist.
UTAH is not the name of a place in America.
You have an instant bond with other linguists.
You talk about big vee and little vee with a serious face.