Lately, I'm beginning to think my biological clock is plotting to dethrone my brain as commander in chief of all bodily functions.

Within months, all my major organs will direct the civil war fought on all fronts of my insides, liberating my body from head to toe from my brain's terrorist regime.

Conveniently though, graduation is two weeks away and I'll have less need and opportunity to pollute my body in my dual motivations to have fun and make ends meet.

I can quash this uprising when I land a 9-to-5 job, thus creating a uniform timetable of daily events I can plan and perform. All will be peaceful, I'll be stress-free, and my body will become a regular Adonis.

Maybe this is just my brain thinking here, but is that really what I want?

To me, having everything in its right place is the first sign that something isn't natural.

I'm used to the chaos of deadline, the fast-paced life of journalism, the uncertainty of when and where I'll sleep on weekend nights and constantly worrying about something at all hours of every day.

Granted, I know a large part of this will tranquilly dissipate as I age, and I accept that. But I'm still a Dodge Viper by heart and am reluctant to drive in the same lane with SUV's with child seats, let alone wear a seat belt.

Everyone's body operates on different scales and needs and has subjective ways to achieve them. And my brain knows more about bodily management than any other organ because it unites all of my insides.

The liver can only ask my brain to stop drinking. Eyelids can only plead my brain to stop thinking and go to sleep. Lungs can only tell my brain to stop smoking. None can act for the overall good of the body because it's not their role to tell one another how to do their job.

My body is getting really tired of what my brain is doing to it, but my brain is acting for a larger good -- satisfaction with myself.

At the end of each day, I'm tired but damn proud of the work I do. By shut-eye time on weekends, which many times is sunrise, I'm always falling asleep smiling from all the fun I had with my friends.

At this rate, I won't live past the age of 30, but I know the days with my friends and of being wild are numbered.

The day after I graduate, I'll be driving westward on a six-week trek across the country. The goal: push my entire body into an internal apocalypse so when the time comes to revolt, all parts of my body are unable to fight and tranquility works itself out naturally, kind of like what should have happened in Iraq.

By July, I will have camped under the Montana moonlight, hiked in and around the Grand Canyon, stayed at a sorority house at Georgia Tech and rolled some dice with Elvis in Sin City.

Added to previous college-related road trips, I will have seen and stayed in all climate's landscapes in the continental United States and will be more able to figure out which is a great place to begin my post-college working life.

The day I return to State College and begin job hunting, I will start missing all the good times I had in college and on my cross-country journey, and even all the torment it did to my body.

Before I skipped my first few classes in college, I had no idea college would be even this close to what I expected. Likewise, I'm going to skip my first six weeks of real life after I graduate, anxious that what lies ahead of me is as challenging and fulfilling.

Maybe my brain doesn't know when to say when, but my soul isn't complaining. I'm just hoping my body thanks me later.