When jury duty interrupts the usual ebb and flow of one’s week, it comes along with a smattering of thoughts about law, patriotism, citizenship.

Sitting here in this jury holding room at the courthouse, I am mercilessly seated next to the vending machines [our only source of food, full of the usual items but with a bright yellow sticker slapped across the front: “Smart food choices promote and maintain health”].

The electric hum brings me back to my school days, where we had a lounge with machines making the very same noise. It was in that lounge where we, as fifth graders, studied for the US Citizenship test, which we all had to pass that year. It was also the lounge where we studied the justice system for the eighth grade government class. Who knew that one day I’d be sitting in a different lounge [though with similarly upholstered furniture] remembering, more than any of the now-relevant information pertaining to my American citizenship, the profound, infinite hum.

And on this day of the much-anticipated Iowa caucus, I see the newspapers also buzzing - another seemingly infinite buzz about an election day poised to consume our morning coffee breaks for the next eleven months. On the one hand, the chance to be a juror, despite the inconvenience on my time, is sort of exciting. The concept of a body politic that actually does something, that has an effect on someone that is right there in front of you - it’s satisfying. Even the mumbo-jumbo about serving the country and the constitution feels a little bit less like propaganda when faced with an actual plaintiff, defendant, and judge. I’ve found myself stuck between this patriotism, this desire to be a part of the thing, and this disgust with the country that I am supposed to be standing for.

What to do?