You know that feeling when you’re buzzing with energy but have no idea what to do with it? Like you’re a hamster on a wheel, except the wheel is spinning in a dozen directions, and no matter what, you’re not getting anywhere? Yeah, that’s me today. I need to do something. Something. Don’t ask me what. It’s just…something. I need to go somewhere. Not sure where exactly, but I can’t stay here. The walls are closing in. I’m basically at the point where I could start spinning in a circle and call it productivity.

What’s that phrase people throw around? “Find your center,” they say. “Meditate.” Ha! Do I look like I can sit still for ten minutes, much less center anything right now? No! Never have!  I need to make a move. But what move? Do I rearrange the furniture? Clean out the fridge? Book a trip to Timbuktu? I need some new scenery. Something different. Something that makes me feel like I’m shaking off this restless energy that has me bouncing like a pinball.

Maybe I need coffee? No, that’s a terrible idea. Coffee would send me into orbit, and no one needs that. I’m already spinning out like a broken record, hopping from thought to thought like a squirrel on too much sugar. I see those squirrels everyday in my backyard. Let’s be real: I can’t even sit down to drink coffee right now.

Maybe I need to go for a walk. But wait—I do that all the time. What am I even running from? Or towards? Do I need to go for a drive instead? What is it about hopping into the car that makes me feel like I’m in control of something, even when the destination is a mystery? I could just drive into the sunset, blasting a playlist of songs I barely know, pretending I’m a protagonist in some indie movie about “finding myself.”

Or maybe, just maybe, I need a quiet place. Ironic, right? Me, needing a quiet place. The same person whose brain is currently a screaming jumble of “Go! Move! Do! Be!” I need to escape to some cabin in the woods where the only sound is birds chirping and the wind in the trees. But let’s be real—how long could I handle that silence before I’m pacing in the cabin, plotting my next escape, mentally rearranging the furniture and wondering if I should go start a commune or something?

But back to the frenzy. Do I need to declutter my closet? Do a juice cleanse? No, that’s not it. Do I need to send a bunch of emails? Oh, please—who am I kidding? I wouldn’t get past the second sentence before my mind drifts off, thinking about the next thing on the list. Or the list I haven’t even made yet, but I know I’ll be making at 2 a.m. when my brain decides to remind me of all the things I didn’t do today. Because, you know, that’s helpful.

Here’s the kicker: I’ve got this frenetic need to do something and yet, deep down, I know what I probably need most is to stop. Find that elusive quiet space inside my head. Ha. As if. (Yes, I loved Clueless). Can you imagine? Me, stopping? Finding quiet? That’s cute. But maybe, just maybe, somewhere between the buzzing thoughts and the pacing, I’ll stumble into that quiet place by accident.

And if I don’t? Well, I guess I’ll just keep spinning—until I land somewhere interesting.