Oh no. Quick, look busy or fake a cell phone conversation. I can see it coming a mile – or, in this case, a kilometer – away: well-meaning, established adults ready to utter those dreaded words: “So what do you want to do with your life?”

While many of us have “solid” life plans – finish at Iowa State, grad school in psychology, working in rehab for life – it only takes one failed GRE or “Thank you for your application” letter to thrust us into the unknown.

Here in Ireland, however, I’ve found University College Cork students don’t really stress that much about the future, nor do adults ask about my career.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s so far away, like. I can’t imagine thinking now,” my Irish roommate, Ian, says.

Every Friday morning, he and a majority of other Irish students head home to spend the weekend with good old Mum and Dad. Many live at their apartments only three or four days a week, partying Monday through Thursday, only to go home, get their laundry done and eat large home-cooked meals for the remainder of the week.

“You live at your own place all the time? No really, you pay for it too? That’s wild. And your own your car too? Must be grand!” Ian said during one of our mutually revealing conversations.

Yes, I thought, it is grand. Actually, it’s at least a grand, per year, for insurance alone – I never said I was a stellar driver.

Although owning a vehicle and living full-time in an apartment are stark contrasts, the international differences don’t stop at the college level. It is considered socially acceptable, even normal, to live at home in Ireland until you are 28 or 29, unless you are married.

Upon making this discovery, I felt quite smug and secure in my own independent life; it was one of those fleeting but satisfying moments of autonomy.

Two minutes later, I returned to my room and proceeded to call my mom on Skype to ask about trip planning, getting the best exchange rate and the health of my 16-year-old dog, Shifty.

As suddenly as self-sufficiency appeared, it dawned on me: as “independent” as we American college students are, we still are highly dependent on our “home team.”

Certainly, most of us have moved away, but it is a rare college student who doesn’t require advice, financial help, encouragement or recognition from those who love them most.

Although I cover my own car insurance, I still remember being taught to drive a stick shift in the world’s most frustrating, slightly inclined parking lot. After enduring more than 29 million grinding halts, my dad was still proud of my few successful starts.

“You’ll get this, Jules – remember, learning is the hardest part,” he said.

It’s true – learning to appreciate the people who lived in the same state required moving halfway around the world.

Clearly, we aren’t cut out to make it on our own.

“Laura, I’ve decided to become a mountaineer,” I said to my sister, a legend of the ISU Outdoor Recreation Program.

“Julie, there were three of those, and that’s just a movie,” she replied.

“No, not a musketeer, a MOUNTAINeer. I’m climbing the second highest mountain in Ireland and need to know what to bring,” I reply, keenly aware of technological limitations. A few pictures and e-mail exchanges later, I finally selected the perfect pair of hiking boots.

Coming from individualistic America, I sure do need everyone a lot.

After all, who else would send me creative letters, e-mail me about Veishea bands or pay for packages of American food, which has become a priceless commodity?

“Julie, I’ll trade you eight pints of Guinness for that box of mac ‘n’ cheese.”

“Tough bargain, but I’ve got the blues, and this Kraft delicacy is for my mouth only. Get your own box.”

Although being abroad has heightened my awareness, I’ve needed help all throughout college. In place of e-mails, there are always late night Perkins runs and Stomping Grounds mornings. Instead of mac ‘n’ cheese, I was given a weekend escape to Chicago when everything seemed to be going wrong.

I suppose it’s these undetected moments of camaraderie and support that give college the reputation as the “best time of our lives.”

Now would probably be the time to acknowledge all of the people who have invested in us and encourage them to not give up on themselves – but we’re far too independent for that.

Julie Young is a senior in psychology from Indianola. She is studying in Cork, Ireland, this semester.