It's almost your birthday!
Last year I compiled a list of things I wished for you ⎼ and although I'm really sorry that No. 6, [May you never lose your: passport, keys, phone, luggage, wallet, or car] didn't quite come true, I am very happy to note indications of No. 3, [May you always inspire loyalty] and No. 23, [May you love and be loved in return] in this recent article from TIME Magazine by director, Chris Weitz, in which he writes:
" I have to be careful about what I write here because it will be tweeted the moment TIME hits the stands. And if I say something bad about Rob Pattinson, I'm dead meat. That's the devotion the Twilight films inspire. It's certainly not how he planned it. And though I am continually impressed by the aplomb with which he handles the hysteria, I occasionally think he would take it all back if given the chance. Because essentially, Rob, 23, is a reserved, bookish sort of specimen, a guy who'd rather spend the night at the corner table in the pub with friends — a bit of a weirdo, frankly, in the best sense.
So how to write about someone who seems to answer Freud's rhetorical question, What do women want? Perhaps it's just worth pointing out that it'd be fun to have a beer with him even if he weren't Edward Cullen. That we haven't seen a tenth of what he can do onscreen. And that important things, beyond the veil of Hollywood, occupy his time too ⎼ music, conversation, ideas, a sense of the absurd. Which, maybe, explains why he never gets to my e-mails. I love you, Rob! Call me!"
Sentiments like Mr. Weitz's, and the one I once shared with a friend: "I appreciate the way his mind works. He makes me think, he's multifaceted, talented, layered, contradictory, a bit damaged, but at the same time whole, kind, and inherently good" ⎼ are reasons I'd consider myself honored to know you.
So Happy Birthday Robert. You are never far from my thoughts and I wish you nothing but joy... especially on the anniversary of your birth. I leave you this addition to last year's Birthday Wish List:
No. 24: Unlike Freud, May you never have to eat anchovies to dream.
I ♥ you too Rob!,
Tess
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