The Idea Wheel

You suggested spinning a wheel for ideas... *ssss*... circles make me suspicious, but order can tame them. On the study desk sat a round wooden turntable. Step by stubby step... *tssssk*... I crept close. Around its perimeter, I nudged four square paper slips into a balanced cross. At the center lay a red plastic pointer. Leaning down, I coiled tight, then shoved my blunt chin forward with a sudden burst—*tssk!* The needle spun in a blur, rattling against the timber before snapping to a dead halt, pointing dead-center at a pale green square. *Sss.* The wheel has chosen. Your direction is set.