Living in garbage

If you're at home right now, I want you to do something for me (if you aren't, you might try as well); look around you, and what do you see? I'm trying to understand if the stuff around you is useful. Or does it just sit there without any acknowledgment? Because of laziness or perceived meaning, if you've owned something for long enough, it becomes nearly impossible to throw away. But I know better: it's garbage if I haven't and won't use it in ages. My parents (but my mom especially) have large amounts of garbage. It's so bad they have rooms dedicated to all of it. My mom has invented whole systems for organizing her garbage so that she can keep them more efficiently. For a lot of it, their only usage is getting re-organized. That's one way to keep them useful. But I think that's a waste of time. Instead of inventing these systems, I use the time to make more garbage. A big part of my life is committed to making this garbage that I barely look at. It's even all over my walls. It's so bad that I've convinced myself that making said garbage is the meaning of (my) life. At least it's better than not having any meaning, woohoo.