How "how I met your mother" relates to my thesis

There is a certain truth to the adage, "A heart skips a beat" to refer to the heart's action when they are in love. I was first reminded of this as I watched an episode of "how I met your mother" where Barney FINALLY has an inkling of romantic feeling towards someone else. Interestingly, that episode was playing as I was working on my research on heart rate variability (HRV).

As I'm writing my novel I wonder....

The characters in a novel reflect the inner workings of a writer. From the most mundane to the most interesting, each character encompasses different characteristics from the inner workings of the writer's mind. And so, sitting here in my desk, I see a writer now distilling their love into their character, making such character a lover. Their rage, on a stroke of anger, is scribbled into the description of the antagonist. And random facts and fillers, are given to the background characters. Those characters that don't make much noise, but whose actions scream from each line of the written page.

Black

The roads are dark here. The pavement that greys and ages with time is charcoal black and new. It is like a river of dark tar quicksand that aches to be inhaled. In the distance there is a faceless stranger. Do I know him? Why is he there? And why haven’t our paths crossed soon. “Come yonder!” Said a voice behind me.

Death looked scary. There was nothing there but bones, and he was just like death in those Mexican lottery cards. His face looked like a sugar skull, and for a minute I wanted to lick it and see if death was sweet. “come, you can cross here.”  Suddenly, beneath the tar a boat appeared. It was small boat made of the brownest wood. It looked like it had been cut down recently, and wasn’t smoothed because the ridges were still.

Excerpt from Chapter 2, a Novel in progress

"The bloodlust and guilt did not clash well, and made him delirious. Such was his delirium, almost a drunken stupor. And in this stupor he made his way home, down that one road. Had this been another time of the day, it would have been a massacre for the people who crossed his paths. But this was 3 in the morning, and everyone was sound asleep. As he walked, he periodically licked the red iron liquid on his lips as a reminder of what he had done. And then he would start crying, because his conscience would come rushing down to punch him in the gut.