hammers and meaning

Someone once said that everything looks like a nail to the man holding a hammer. these days it seems more apropos to say that everything seems worth remembering to the person holding a camera, or more profound to the man who is wont to write poetry. it's always difficult to distinguish between value discovered and value fabricated. popular media teaches us to see through a melodramatic lens; music, movie and television corrupt one's sense of reality. conventional wisdom has made importance, like the rest of einstein's world, relative, and the social event replaces the meaning-void. nostalgia is what one finds comforting, safety in the unchanging and ever impressing past; we are seeing the present 'through the rear-view mirror.' it seems foolish to still have days you had when you were seventeen; i have yet to find an ideology, a person, an arbitrary goal to commit myself to. that's what adulthood, is i believe; resignation. create a goal, make a plan and hope for longevity and good credit. i think. i am still young enough to have romantic proclivities. i can never tell if something actually matters or if i just make it matter; the most vexing thought is wondering why i have the desire to assign everything degrees of final relevance. i can't help but feel that i am creating the circumstances that cause me to question so that i might have something to think about, that i seek out my problems in order to give my life complexity.