I have a confession to make...I don't get along with my parents. Yes, I'm twelve and angst-ridden.
People my age, when asked about their parents, always say, "Oh, I love my parents, we get along great!" as if it's become uncool to argue with them anymore.

But my guess is, you all started getting along with their parents once said parents started having no say on how you live your life. Either that, or your parents were one of those who believed in being best friends! with their kids.

Well, neither of those apply to me--my parents still pay for my livelihood, and they are nobody's best friends, much less their kids'.
And I still feel guilty and ashamed everytime I fight with them, like it's some inborn trait, guilt. Even if the issue is something that I know they're wrong about, I always have that doubt in the back of my mind about whether I'm really right or not. Ugh, parents. Once I convince my subconscious that they are just people, after all, and just as capable of being wrong as any other person (my conscious knows this quite well) I'm sure all the problems will stop.

On a less annoying note, I went to Dallas this weekend. Apartment-hunting and all that. Which would have been much improved if Aaron was here. But the good news is I saw plenty of Blockbusters and Taco C's and Borders. Which made me feel much better about life in general. I am very much a child of capitalism, and I don't mind admitting it.