Sincerely Yours, The Breakfast Club

Yes, I am calling this final blog post a quote from one of my favorite eighties movies. Well, my all time favorite movie really. But when you think about it, we all really are just a bunch of athletes, princesses, brains, criminals, and basket cases.

Of course, I can’t just not jam out to Don’t you Forget About Me by Simple Minds as I write this.

Well this certainly isn’t Saturday detention, it’s more of a place we actually want to be. We definitely aren’t smoking pot, and hiding in ceilings. We don’t have an angry principal breathing down our necks, we have two teachers instead who secretly don’t like us from afar (I’m kidding, you only don’t like us just a little bit).

And instead of the Breakfast Club, we are the much cooler, Propel. I mean I would hope we’re what kids call cool these days.

I’m not going to make this some sappy rendition of all the profound life changes I’ve had, or the mesmerizing things I’ve learned, and how much of a family this little program is to me.

Instead, let’s talk about John, Claire, Andy, Allison, and Brian, and well us but not in a cheesy, mushy way.

These students go from being total strangers on March 24th, 1984, to by the end of the day, becoming considerable friends. I can say the least.

That’s kind of like us, Propel. Within the first few days we became quite comfortable with each other, and that has built up all the way till now.

Honestly, we all aren’t going to walk out of here with fists in the air, and a whole narrative essay about us. But, we are all going to walk out of here.

And that’s kind of scary in a way.

You’re going back to your home school, coming back from the program that was nothing like regular high school and now you’re being put right back into it. How does that work? I guess we will all have to wait and just see.

“We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all”

Andy,  The Breakfast Club

This is supposed to be a celebratory aura of a blog post. So way to go me for adding this somewhat depressing thing of a quotation.

But, I believe it’s quite relevant to this program, and well everything.

We were all just a group of random teenagers from the same division; with varying array of talents, skills, and interests. We all sat at random seats, unsure of the other kids around us. Most of us afraid to talk, except the ones who knew each other already. Some of us were just better at  hiding our own peculiarity.

Within the first couple weeks, we were a complete different group of kids. It was pretty remarkable.

There probably won’t be a reunion after this program is finished within the two more weeks we have left.

I’ll be honest. I’m going to miss all you nerds. I’m not gonna have to get up at 6:30 anymore, and have to take two buses just to get here.

That’s enough cheesy “I’m going to miss you” stuff for one day.

Over the course of the semester, I have come to love my denim vest with great pride, and have recently improved my eyebrow drawing skills, and have had continuous jam sessions with everyone during whatever time we chose to burst out into random acts of song and dance.

We’ve had countless classic rock tunes played, and a lot of laughs.

I’m not sure what else to type into this farewell. Maybe it’s because I can’t think of the words, or my hands are too cold and numb to actually type them out if I had them. Maybe it’s a little of both.

But what can you do?

To all the students who are bound after us, do what you like, create and imagine all you want, make your stay here worth while because believe me it goes by fast, and you have less time than you initially thought.


Don’t forget about us.


Sincerely Yours,

Kerri Lynn Marion

*fist bumps the air and walks away in a long trench coat*







My Attempt at being a Writer/Artist/Normal Human Being 

I always find, when I can’t focus on school or home life, or even daily tasks. I write, or I paint. Both are like words too me, one is physical words on a screen or paper, whereas the other is words spoken through the brush and my hands and the strokes of paint. I’ll put on comfy clothes and sit down with my music in my ears, and I open my green leather notebook. Sometimes words come easily, and sometimes they don’t. I could sit there for hours on shuffle with my music, and just staring at the page until I give up eventually. I write about lots of things, from how my day was to songs I’ll never finish, and things I need to do, and poetry, to even drivers Ed notes. I’ve got it all in my array of notebooks, in a variety of coloured pens and things. I buy new notebooks and pens even though I already have a bunch. I’m addicted to stationary if you will. 

I wrote this just on Wednesday as I was going through another timely period of distraction, and an unclear head. 


I painted this simple background the other day. 

These are the two forms of words I have for myself. They’re the ways I express well me. They comfort me at three in the morning when I can’t seem to fall asleep. They help me get the thoughts I don’t want in my brain, out of it onto something else a little more flexible. 

Whenever I have ideas, they get put down somewhere, whether it’s a sticky note or the inside of my hand. They get written down, or at least a good solid effort from me to be remembered for later when I can’t find a pen. 

Recently, I grabbed a few rolls of Scotch tape and a box of old pictures from my childhood, and my parents and everyone else’s childhood. I went to work, scanning the photos for ones I liked, and therefore taping them up onto the wall with a single piece of tape on the back. And once I was done for the night, my wall was covered and filled in with pictures of all natures and subjects. I can tell you I was quite the cute baby and my hair was much longer than it is now.  

I have everything and anything up on my walls, just another portrayal of me and the things I like. Well time to end this for the second last time. 

Peace out, Girl Scout (as quoted from Izzy Bean) 

Hozier Jams and the Last Day of School

Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago.

I thought I would start off with a lyric from a song by Hozier called From Eden.

So today is the last day of school. Boo-hoo 😦

What am I gonna do with my life without ProPEL? Well I could probably finish my project over the two week holiday break, or at least be close to finishing. It’s gonna be interesting to see how I survive without Mr. Patrician’s dad jokes, and Mr. Hansen’s outbursts of laughter, and all of my friends and classmates.

I’ll certainly be taking lots of pictures over the break, since it’s going to be a nice classic white Christmas it seems with the weather lately.

Babe, there’s something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don’t you agree?

Sorry, I can’t get enough of this song they lyrics are beautiful. Well for Christmas, I always stay up late, I usually don’t sleep. I’m sixteen and I still get excited for Christmas. I mean I’m the type of person to wake up at 2 am and go down to look at the tree, and then at 6 am I get my parents up and order them to get some coffee and open gifts and they usually just roll around in bed and I’m sent back to bed.

I don’t know I guess I’ll always have that excitement, and those late nights with family and friends. I certainly will be basking in hot chocolate, and fuzzy pajamas, and wrapping paper. I’ll probably show up at my boyfriend’s house in flannel pants, and a bow on my head with some hot drink from Tim Horton’s. There’s just something I love about those moments. There’s so many old and new to be made and revisited. For example;

My cat loves to play with all the wrapping paper and bows, and sit under the tree and attack the poor ornaments. My dog will start barking at everything that passes by the window, and run around and sit when we open gifts. My mom will always sit on the couch with her cup of coffee and take pictures. I will be in some sort of onesie, or pajamas just for the occasion trying to pick what gift to open first. My sister will be doing the same. My dad always sits in his desk chair, and is in charge of all the wrapping paper being torn and the bows being thrown away.

I’m just a sucker for the holidays. Now if you excuse me, I’m signing off to go watch Christmas cartoons with my classmates, and work on my project.

Happy Holidays!

December 11th

So it’s Friday. And we only have a week left till winter break for two weeks. I mean Christmas is almost here. I’m already bringing out the slippers and festive pajamas. I swear I drink hot chocolate like it’s water. It’s best when paired with some fuzzy pants, and a good book.

The propel program has been going pretty well so far, everyone is enjoying it. My project is coming along nicely, maybe I’ll even sneak a peek at the end of this post as to the idea of what I’m doing for my project. We will see. 

“Maybe we’ll get married in Boston, I hear New Haven got under your skin”

I like including lyrics from songs I’ve been listening to recently. So there is that for you. 

My project. I am taking Victorian Era paintings, and I am recreating them with my photography. Then I conclude to make the model look like the actual painting using Photoshop. 

So far, I have finished my “proof of concept” example, so I have something to show people what I am doing so they can gain a better understanding of it! 

It’s going great! I have shoots to do next week with two more models, and I am working on my first piece to be apart of the four or five I will include in the final production. I’m so excited to be working on it. 

I’ll admit it. It’s been a hard past couple weeks, with my knee surgery, and a poor state of mind I’ve been going through.  I felt like I was doubting myself a lot, and questioning why I was even in the program to begin with. I remember writing this in the beginning of Propel. I think it went a little something like this. 

“I can go from building something with wood, to designing a t shirt in graphic arts and screen printing and airbrushing, to painting the most delicate water colour or acrylic painting in art, and they’re all done with the same pair of hands”

I’m sure those aren’t my exact words, but they’re certainly on the right track of thought I had at the time. As we all are sitting and working, and listening to Foster the People over our speakers, I can’t help but notice the atmosphere is so comfortable and great. 

Walking into classrooms would cause me anxiety, but within a week I felt more comfortable than ever. I’m still working on the presentation part of my anxiety but I’m getting there. 

I think I’ll end this here. I’m gonna cozy up and read The Silver Linings Playbook, and enjoy the rest of the day. 

Poetry by Kerri

There is more than just skin and bones

A frail body,

A clouded mind, and a heavy heart

There is more than just the particles that make up your complexion

There is more than just the matter that ignites your bones

Your bones creak and ache like an old house would

Your bones flash and sing, just like you like to do

But they’re just bones

Fragile just like twigs

August 11, 2015 

Signed at 12:05 AM

Kerri Lynn Marion


As I sit here and eat my oranges, reading through old notes in my phone and my green leather notebook. Why did I ever start writing down these things? They’re just messed up thoughts that come from my even more messed up head. Why did my brain just decide to take some old pen lying around, and physically write them down. What was the whole point???

I’m not sure where I am going with this honestly, my blogs are getting sloppy and portraying the sides of me I don’t show often. I apologize for my word vomit. I just want to go home and read books, and drink hot chocolate and watch old Disney movies. Let’s just put my super man onesie on, which yes I’ll admit I have sitting in my drawer, and ice my knee. I have also downgraded from crutches to a bright blue cane, which makes me feel like I’m eighty years old and just had a hip replacement, and I go to bingo every Friday night at the local legion, and knit sweaters for my cats in my free time.

I don’t know what I’m writing anymore, I’m just going to end it here, and scroll through Twitter.



Flannels & Books

I wear flannel and read books more often than not. Plus my handy, black, and worn out pair of converse I bought a couple of years ago for my birthday. I guess I’m writing this because Friday I’ll be at home sleeping in my bed, and trying not to complain. Since well I’m finally getting my completely torn ACL, and torn meniscus fixed on Thursday. I still don’t know which way I’m gonna go under, I’d rather not be there at all since I hate hospitals. They seem too sterile and they are like an area of unknown people waiting for the names of what’s wrong with them for hours upon end, so long that they fall asleep in their chairs. But at least the nurses and doctors are typically nice. Thanks to rugby, for how I injured my knee. I definitely won’t be playing that again. I’m better fit for basketball anyways, six years running now I’ve been playing on teams and improving my skills. When I started out in grade five, I played for the Niakwa team I believe, of course I had no experience except the simple games of 21 on the playground with my friends. I was pretty shy and timid. As the years progressed, I got more and more into the sport and I fell in love with it. From my little sneakers, to my electric blue basketball shoes that I wear now.

Weekend Wreckers & Cold Classrooms

As I sit here, pondering the meaning of life, and listening to covers of Cold Arms by Mumford and Sons. I am thinking about many things. Is everyone insane, I mean everyone goes a little mad at one point in there life, right? Then my brain shifts to Alice in Wonderland, and the new trailer that came out a while ago for the new movie. What goes on inside other people’s heads, hmm? Do they think about hamburgers, and their dog? Do they think about their secret diary underneath their bed, that they have so much to tell today after school? My brain wonders a lot. I would assume others are just the same. But, it seems I find a poetic edge to a lot of things, to make them sound “prettier” if you will. Or make them to sound more like how I would write them down at three in the morning when I can’t sleep. Do all teenagers have insomnia? What does it mean when you swear to god that you heard someone calling your name, and then you turn around and no one is in sight? Is that crazy, or just odd? Music is just patterns and frequencies our ears enjoy, but then what is music to us? Why do I have an affectionate drawing towards Tim Burton’s character, Jack Skellington? My brain goes a mile a minute, in sixty seconds. Why does read and read have two different sounding notations, and syllables? Why is English one of the hardest languages to learn? Is it because of those two read, and read? How come I stay up at night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, because my head races with all these questions? Is there one person who truly knows the answer to everything that there is? What does your brain do when you have a headache, does it shed tears, or pulse? How come videos of cats doing stupid things make so many people laugh every single day? Does your brain hurt yet from reading all these questions? This probably all seems pointless by now, doesn’t it? How can I go from listening to hard rock, to the soft strings of classical music? How can one message from that one person at any time make you smile, and change your entire mood just like that? What’s the real meaning behind everything in this universe?

Why, why, why, why, why? Question after question and I don’t have an answer for you.

I think everyone follows the white rabbit down that hole, every once in a while.

And I think I’ve gone bonkers, Alice.

I Doodle on my Hand Too Much 

I find whenever I’m bored or having troubles coming up with ideas for my project, I tend to doodle on my hand a lot with my array of colourful pens. 

I find creativity in the form of doodling I guess. It helps me think, and express myself in different colours and ways. I try to doodle when I can, even if it sucks because it just lets me draw the stupidest things with no one judging me from behind my shoulder. 

Art is like my way of being truly my crazy self without being questioned, because it’s art. No one questions it. They say wow abstract, instead of wow what the hell is this supposed to be. Yes art has doubts and questions, but really just draw and paint whatever you want to. If you feel sad go out and paint with just black, if you feel happy go and draw a happy face on someone. Art is art no matter the skill set. 

Do what you want to do, and don’t worry what anyone else says because they don’t matter. All that matters is that you create what is in that brain of yours, whether it’s crazy or insane or normal. 


Innovation Alley & Getting Hit by Cars because I am Slow and Old 

Today, we went to a place in the exchange district called Innovation Alley. We had a tour and we went around Red River College, I brought along with me my trusty camera and took many pictures. Which I’ll show in a separate blog post. 

As we were walking across the street to Innovation Alley, I am quite slow due to a knee injury and was at the back of the pack. We had just crossed the street and cars were waiting and I can’t run so here I am walking slow down the Main Street, trying to keep my hair in place and my camera from breaking. Thank goodness for Mr Hansen, and those supposed Glenlawn shirts. 

We also went to a place for start up businesses called a Start Up Winnipeg. It was really interesting, and you rent a table for only 100$ and you have access to many different sorts of things like, a whole room for 3D printing, woodworking, metal working, and many more. It was really interesting for many people. 

We also went to another building, where we got to see a co-working space, where they helped people from 18-39 start businesses, which was pretty cool. Steep white, airy stairs, later we head to the skip the dishes headquarters, and we got to meet lots of cool people today. 

It is definitely something I would look into while I’m in university or college after propel is over.