machines must be destroyed

I hate iPads. I hate iAnnotate. I hate Apple TM and its ubiquitous, controlling, techno-fascism.
Today was spent trying to download an app on a work-provided iPad that I can no longer stand to look at (unless I'm kicking it to pieces).
Welcome to the modern academic work life of the under/over employed postgrad student.
I signed a contract for 8 hours of marking. So many contracts. So much paperwork that has to be completed, signed, scanned, delivered, and processed so that I can do a job that takes about the same amount of time as all the combined labour in doing the initial paperwork.
But I'm cheap labour because I work from home.
I ring the IT Centre and they say they don't really deal with the iPads. "Can you bring it in?" he says, "what campus are you on?"
My campus is my home that is currently being poisoned by my anger at this working life i find myself in.
Half of those 8 hours have been spent already and I've marked no essays. So I'll probably work 14 hours I suppose. And I'll probably not complain because there's nobody to whom I could fairly direct this anger. I can shake my fist at the institution of course, but we're all doing that anyway. So what?
I've offered to mark the essays on paper, the old-fashioned way. I'm awaiting a response. But I'm not touching them today because today is ruined and I need to walk away from these screens now and go pick up some scissors and paper to cut things out and make something pretty. I need to play some records.
They say you can choose the life you want to live, but I can't choose the analogue life that I want. At least not without major life restructuring and a future of poverty and loneliness.
Meanwhile I'm about to start teaching online at another institution who likes to outsource work to the restless homes of PhD students. There's 6 different people that have graced my inbox in relation to this job, and I'm expected to know who they are, what roles they play, and how we're all supposed to relate to each other. Most of these people I've never met or spoken to. I send a question today, pointing out that I don't have access to 'the system'. Someone's response points to the responsibilities of 3 of the other people - one is away, one is sick, the other (it is suggested) hasn't done his job. It's very easy to hate people without faces and blame them for my discomfort. I just want a fucking password and the induction training that was promised. But now I get an online induction tool. More unpaid time to figure out systems that have no relevance to my life/occupation other than me needing to voluntarily learn them so I can briefly use them to make my way to another small sum of money. And all this while I'm poisoning my home with anger directed at screens. My workplace/loungeroom is spared of colleagues, resources, and adequate IT. I guess there's a password for me, but it just hasn't been communicated to me. Communication being that thing we do between screens, in solitary numbness, without having to look at the angry disappointment on each others' faces.
Time to find a real job.

and i forgot...

"And I forgot the element of chance introduced by circumstances, calm or haste, sun or cold, dawn or dusk, the taste of strawberries or abandonment, the half-understood message, the front page of newspapers, the voice on the telephone, the most anodyne conversation, the most anonymous man or woman, everything that speaks, makes noise, passes by, touches us lightly, meets us head on."

La Démarche poétique - Jacques Sojcher, 1976