I’m looking forward to doing a number of activities during my 12-day respite from classes after this summer session is over.

But, although bicycle rides, band practice, hanging out with friends and playing video games for dangerously excessive periods of time may top the list of things I so desperately want to engage in, chief among them involves nothing more than deafeningly loud music, my secluded room in the basement and a metric ton of little interlocking multicolored plastic blocks.

That’s right: I’m hankering for some extreme Lego building.

Every once in a grand while, my innate fascination with Lego bricks is awakened from its dormant slumber in order to drive me to build (and afterwards, violently deconstruct) all manner of brick-based creations.

And that’s just an example of a mild manifestation of my sporadically occurring addiction to Lego building.

When I go into “hardcore mode,” I go all-out to make Lego creations inspired by some of my favorite things: space faring battlecruisers, futuristic cities, hi-tech automobiles, space stations, mining facilities, lunar bases and interplanetary fortresses all appear as Lego-fied products of my science fiction-fueled mind.

So why am I writing this column about Legos?

Because I’m incredibly pumped about going home so I can crank up some Slayer and build a small armada of Lego battleships and siege frigates capable of completely razing the surface of a Class-M Lego planet.

Oops. Don’t forget the Lego frigates and cruisers. They’re very important for support roles.

Plus, building things from Legos is an excellent stress reliever. Spending four or five hours (that’s a short day for me) cranking away on those little plastic pieces allows me to vent and create some neat little creations in the process.

But the real stress relief comes from the culmination of my Lego fleets in a final battle of awesome proportions.

‘Cuz that’s when stuff starts blowing up.

When 50 Lego ships engage another 50 Lego ships on the verge of a rift in dimensional space, and they’re all armed to the teeth with bristling laser batteries, antimatter-compression bombs, shield-piercing attack rockets and squadrons of strikecraft billowing out of the docking bays of the dreadnought-class carriers stationed at the rear of a battle fleet, things get messy.

At this point, I’m making engine thrust noises with my throat, I’m yelling the frenzied commands which the generals on the capital ships are relaying to one another amidst the chaos, and I’m launching sorties, missiles, bombs, laser bolts, and pieces of space debris at the fleets to simulate a deep-space weapons exchange.

There’s nothing more gratifying than building up an entire . . . thing . . . of something with the simple intention of breaking into lots of little pieces later on.

Especially when the aforementioned destruction involves Stinger-class strikecraft and 250 mm gauss-cannon blasts.

But there you go: I guess that the true reason I have so much fun whilst digging elbow-deep into the bins of Legos from my not-too-long-ago (and arguably still going) childhood is that Legos give me the capabilities to let my imagination do whatever it wants to do.

Legos allow me to give a physical existence to the things I enjoy (day)dreaming about all of the time.

Yeah, I have dreams about being the captain of the USS Enterprise. So?

It doesn’t make me a dork or anything. “Snort.”

Besides, moving those little ships around on my bedroom floor reminds me of a strategic game of chess.

It’s almost as if I’m creating my own little intergalactic conquest game… all in the secluded confines of my basement room.

After all, I think I deserve a Lego mini vacation after this spectacularly hectic summer session of classes.

A cramped dormroom, a discombobulated and befuddled mind (even more so than usual), and interior sweat-inducing air temperatures are not what I desired for summer.

If I ever decide to take summer classes again, please make sure to hurl a minivan-sized boulder at me as forcefully as possible.

And make sure you yell like Charles Bronson when you’re throwing it. That will maximize your scariness and ensure my fleeing of the immediate scene.

So, am I gonna get some cake now, or what?

I want some cake.