... The immortality part of apotheosis is significantly more important than the "being a god" part.
... Utterly dominating minds and turning whole cities to fine ash is easier than healing a scratch.
... Being the adventurer most other games condition you to be causes more long-term difficulty than anything.
Keep going!
The source of power isn't overcoming great challenges, it's studying great books and learning from great tutors.
You perform medicine based on manipulating the four humours, and it actually works.
You hire other people to go on adventures so you can finish inventing your latest spell.
You spend over a year making an enchanted item just to throw it down a well so you can cast spells differently.
The dragon's hoard is significantly less valuable to you than the dragon's heart.
You will study five years to save yourself a single season of work. After you spent three years making your laboratory 'just so' for the same reason.
You obsessively gather rocks from everywhere you go, in case you want to go back there again.
You instruct your servants to wake you up just before dawn, without fail.
Your grandiose plans of making your sanctum an impenetrable magical fortress fail because you really, really want to understand plant magic better.
Your grandiose plans for anything rely on you training some snot-nosed teenager some magical theory so he can help.
Being loud and obvious actually makes spells more powerful.
Some psychopathic mage who lives 400 miles away is your worst enemy...and the guy who taught you magic. And he planned it that way.
'I'll get right on it!' means definitely within the next two decades.
You address your travelling companions by their parents' names because you haven't noticed the generational change.
Your idea of a grand adventure of discovery involves turning into a tree for a year.
You plan everything in 7-year cycles.
Going on an adventure is actually an annoyance that you try your best to avoid.
Earning experience points from adventuring actually makes your character advancement slower.
You spend a lot of time discussing the underlying mechanics of the universe. And that actually helps you towards achieving your ultimate goal.
You're an eccentric wizard living in isolation in a distant tower that hires adventurers to get some obscure arcane object for him, instead of the other way around.
Dying of old age is actually a real concern.
You are more likely to die as a result of blowing up your own laboratory while experimenting, than as a result of fighting against some monster.
You are paid during character generation for having a henchman, instead of paying for it.
Your most valued possesion is an old tome bound with a dragon's skin and beautifully embellished by a master illuminator. And it actually makes sense, rules-wise.
Writing and circulating incendiary texts is a valid political strategy.
You know your scribe's name by heart, but couldn't even tell if you actually have a weaponsmith.
Your first words to one of your close friends and allies is "Can I borrow one of your giants?"
Your wizard has memories of apprenticeship that include things like "the year we spent as wolves."
Money holds almost no value to your character.
Your organization likes to write incendiary texts to promote an agenda through thought provoking arguments when read AND create incendiary texts that promote an agenda through bursting into flames when read.
"We"? What sort of master would be ridiculous enough to inflict themselves with a Warping point just for the sake of educating a little scrub? I mean, unless they're Bjornaer. Both because Heartbeast doesn't Warp, and because Bjornaer are just weird.
Anyway...
... Your response to seeing a god in person is either to kill it for vis, engage in discourse, or ignore it, while viewing your reverent grogs with some concern and/or contempt.
... For things that inspire awe in others in general, you reflexively consider their value in terms of vis, though you might feel bad about it if you care for the thing in question.
... Giving decision-making privileges to people who can't cast spells is as silly-sounding an idea to the player as it is to the character.
... If every tiny little decision you make has far-reaching negative consequences, that's considered good work on your SG's part.
... You invite (or sometimes unwillingly recruit) people to live with you for no good reason except to avoid wasting their existences. (Maybe this is just my group.)