I don’t know what to tell you.

This copy contributor has been handed a pen that’s meant to write a story instead of fix grammar, and I’m at a loss.

Like, what do I even write? Do I tell you why I joined Pipe Dream? Do I brag about how lovely the people at the Copy Desk are?

I know I’m supposed to reflect and give my revelatory, soul-bearing, torch-passing advice and I will, I swear! I’m just hung up on how Clark Kent-y this all feels. I mean, I picked Copy specifically because I wanted to stay behind the scenes, but now this senior column is giving me the spotlight.

For two years, I’ve been perfectly content with staying hidden among the text because Copy’s got a lot to offer: there are the mostly broken rolly chairs that have given me one too many heart attacks (but, hey, those free adrenaline spikes keep you awake when you’re on the late shift). There’s a whiteboard that boasts goofy sketches and our ever-changing, completely arbitrary point totals.

But most importantly, there’s a group of ridiculous and ridiculously kind people who work at the Copy Desk every Wednesday and Sunday night.

We’ve lived through deeply important life events together, like the release of Resident Evil 9. We’ve debated which Red Robin costume was the best (if you’re curious, it’s the one from Rebirth, 2016 to 2019. Google “red robin costume rebirth” and you’ll find it — look for the photo where he’s standing on the cars. I will not be taking criticism. Dylan, I am looking at you). We’ve discussed which one of us would survive a “Scream” movie and which one of us would be the killer.

We talk a lot. You get the idea.

Today, though? I get to talk to you. I’m not behind the scenes anymore. This column’s given me a soapbox to stand on.

So this is me, standing on that soapbox with my sagely advice, grabbing you by the metaphorical lapels and shaking you back and forth like a magic 8-ball to tell you: joyous whimsy is your ammunition in a world that wants to strip you of your compassion.

You’ve got to feel the absurdity of it all. You’ve got to lean into the small, silly things and take your joy where you can. Be unapologetically into the things that you’re into and love the people that you love with your whole heart, because, frankly, others will make their assumptions about you no matter what, so you might as well be exactly who you are. The right people will find you.

If you don’t believe me, not just anyone would be willing to sit through a detailed play-by-play of the latest flop movie. Yet my wonderful folks at the Copy Desk have, and more than that, they chime in and turn an offhanded comment into a 30-minute discussion. So, trust me, your people will turn up.

(Total sidebar: I’ve only used one em-dash so far! It’s been a real challenge to hold back, you know — I want to throw these things around like confetti. How dare ChatGPT threaten to take their impact away from us.)

To wrap this up:

Shoutout to all my pookie bears at Pipe Dream. You know exactly who you are. You guys are my shnookumses, my pookie-woos, my goofy little fellas, my silly little strawberry cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and red-and white sprinkles on top, and I adore you.

Shoutout to all my non-Pipe Dream folks as well. Again, you know exactly who you are, students and professors and coaches alike, but I’ll spare you the sickening string of tooth-rotting pet names. I fear I can’t force the poor copy staff who edit this to read any more of that. Don’t worry, the sentiment is still there.

Shoutout to my lovely parents. Dad, I finally get the hype about being in journalism.

And shoutout to you reading this, whoever you are. Supporting independent, student-run journalism during a global media crackdown is, like, super cool — high five.

Again, never written an article before, so no clue how to end this. If I were smart, I’d leave you with a meaningful quote, but I don’t have any of those in the bank right now, so … I guess see ya.

Onto the next!

Sasha Zvaners, a senior majoring in history, is a copy contributor for Pipe Dream.