S3 Episode 49: How to Succeed at Doing Weird Stuff That Somehow Pays Off
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Let's get this out of the way: success isn't always pretty. Sometimes, it's sweaty, weird, homemade, and looks like a cowboy throwing ropes in his mom's living room. The idea of "making it" has changed.
Forget clean desks, daily planners, and LinkedIn quotes. It's about chasing what you love, even if it makes zero sense to everyone else, including your dog. In this story-packed article, we meet five people who said, "screw normal" and did it their way.
First up is Rider Kiesner, a world champion trick roper who started with a cheap rope kit and a living room full of broken lamps. Then there's Nathan Colt Young, who juggles welding, country music, and more emotional pain than your last four exes combined.
The two brothers Louis Michot & Andre Michot from Lost Bayou Ramblers, built a Grammy-winning Cajun band using beer, canoes, and songs they didn't fully understand. Lovely Sparrows dropped a song that sounds like a sad therapist whispering from under your bed.
And finally, Leigha Struthers and Ryan Struthers turned a wedding meltdown and a wine addiction into a clean-burning candle empire complete with concrete jars and a scent that smells like Texas barbecue but won't clog your arteries.
In this article, you'll learn how weird hobbies, emotional breakdowns, side gigs, and stubborn love can turn into something great. No fancy tips. No 10-step programs. Just proof that doing what you love loudly, badly, and proudly might be the best damn plan you ever had.
How to Succeed at Becoming a Trick Roper?
Let's start with this: while you were learning to ride a bicycle and crying over scraped knees, Rider Kiesner was already throwing ropes around his head like a cowboy wizard on sugar.
Step 1: Be a Weird Kid with a Rope
While most kids got socks or PlayStation games, Rider Kiesner got a trick roping kit at nine. The man moved all the furniture and started swinging ropes in the living room like a cowboy possessed. He taught himself the basics, got mad, probably broke a lamp, and kept going.
Step 2: Get Bullied by Your Dad into Performing in Public
Shy? Awkward? No problem. His dad dragged him to Fort Worth and tossed him on a street corner. "Perform," he said.
And so Rider stood there for 3–4 hours, trying to rope without crying. After a summer of looking like a nervous wreck, he started enjoying it. People cheered. He smiled. Then he got better. Simple formula.
Step 3: Turn the Whole Family into a Traveling Circus
Dad: Cowboy shooter and PRCA rodeo clown. Yes, clown.
Little Brother: Trick Rider and Roman Rider.
Rider: Whips, ropes, guns. It's a one-man spaghetti western.
They hit small rodeos first. Then, they upgraded to giant stages. One show had 127,000 people at Texas Motor Speedway. That's not a typo. That's bigger than most cities. And yes, he didn't pee himself. Impressive.
Step 4: Make It All Worth It
Rider admits this job isn't all shiny belt buckles. You spend hours practicing alone, roping yourself in the face. But when the crowd roars, you feel like a damn cowboy god.
Best Trick? Not Roping. It's Keeping His Girlfriend Happy
Bethany rides horses like a beast. They work together. They also won the 2020 Dress Act of the Year. It only took 20 years. No big deal.
Words to Live By (Cowboy Edition):
If you want to learn, shut up and keep practicing.
Everyone sucks at first. Keep going, anyway.
Watch the same old VHS tape until it dies.
It's not impossible. You're just lazy.
Rider believes in his craft. Says God gave him the gift. We're glad he didn't waste it doing TikTok dances.
How to Succeed as a Country Singer Welder?
Nathan Colt Young lives where GPS gets confused. Somewhere between Lockhart, Bastrop, Flatonia, and "the middle of nowhere." He calls Lockhart home because it had a high school, and his family basically colonized it.
Born to Weld, Forced to Perform
Nathan didn't choose welding. Welding chose him. It ran in his bloodline like cholesterol in a Southern diet.
Great-grandpa: welder
Grandpa: welder
Dad: still welding, still cussing
Nathan: he started burning rods at 13 like a little metal wizard
He's been welding all over South Texas, mostly in oilfields and anywhere that sparks fly and safety goggles fog. He now runs a tiny contractor gig with his dad, proving that family trauma can be productive if it pays.
Does welding ruin his music career?
Nope. He juggles both like a cowboy with ADHD. One day, he's fixing steel. The next day, he's singing heartbreak. And he ain't stopping either one.
The Doctor Phil of Sad Country Songs
Several folks once told him, "You're like Doctor Phil but with a twang and fewer lawsuits."
Why? Because his songs punch you in the gut in the most respectful way.
He writes about heartbreak, struggle, and surviving on cheap beer and blind hope. His message is simple: Life sucks sometimes, but you're still breathing, so quit whining and keep riding.
His Start? Diapers, VHS, and George Strait
At three years old, Nathan watched Pure Country, wore a diaper, grabbed a toy guitar, and tried to be George Strait. By seven, he had memorized every song in the movie. That's a commitment or possibly early signs of musical possession.
What's His Show Look Like?
You won't find smoke, fire, or seizure-inducing lasers. Nathan hates all that fake crap.
He brings:
A guitar
A mic
A light
And enough heart to make grown men cry in their ribs
He keeps it simple, old-school, and real. Just like your granddad's whiskey and your momma's guilt.
How to Succeed Like Lost Bayou Ramblers?
Some bands plan world tours. These guys just wanted to kill time. The Lost Bayou Ramblers started as two dudes messing around with a borrowed accordion and a fiddle. No goal. No vision. No clue.
They played one gig in a café. Then another. And another. Suddenly, they were making albums and acting like they meant to do this the whole time. Classic.
First Rule of Ramblers Club
They didn't even have a band name. Their buddy Ryan (RIP, legend) tossed them one: Lost Bayou Ramblers. It stuck because, let's be real, it sounds cool, mysterious, and slightly drunk.
Their early "career" went like this:
$50 a night
A case of Red Stripe
Zero rehearsal, just vibes
One guy was on a triangle until someone handed him a guitar
Most of them didn't speak French. But they still played Cajun songs in French. If someone shouted a song name, the rest of the band just guessed and hoped it wasn't a funeral tune.
Music First, Language Later
They learned songs by heart, not by translation. They didn't need to know what the song meant. They just had to feel it in their gut and their beer-soaked boots.
Over time, they picked up Louisiana French the natural way:
Playing
Screwing up
Copying accordion guys in Ireland
Getting humbled by old swamp ladies who knew more than Google
Recording in Canoes Like Total Maniacs
They don't need fancy studios. They've recorded vocals in a metal canoe. On a bayou. With mosquitoes and gators probably judging them from the water. That bayou life runs deep. Their music isn't just sound. It's memory, plants, stories, and sweat.
Shoutout to Ethel Mae Bork, who grew up next door and passed down more culture than any history book ever could. Her daddy's face is on their first album cover. Why? Because he looked like he'd slap you for using microwave gumbo.
Cajun Culture Isn't Dead. It's Drunk, rowing a Boat, and Still Singing.
The music lives on because these weirdos refused to quit. They play loudly. They love hard. They sing as the swamp owes them rent. And no, they still don't know what half their songs are called.
How to Succeed Understanding "Take Care" by Lovely Sparrows
This one's for the emotionally constipated. Lovely Sparrows dropped "Take Care," it's like a lullaby written by someone tired of your drama.
The Lyrics Hit Like a Sad Therapist
Let's start with this gem:
Take care not to hurt yourself. Beware the need for help.
Translation: Don't be a damn fool. And if you are, try not to bleed on people who didn't cut you.
Then it continues:
Avoid too much when people are stuck. Take care. Please take care.
So basically, don't try to fix broken people when you're held together with duct tape and prayer.
And it gets better:
Some people read our books. Some people have pretty looks.
But if everyone's eyes are wide, then all eyes...
Pause. Breathe. That's the moment where your brain goes, "What the hell does that mean?" but your heart goes, "Damn, I feel that."
Soft Voice, Sharp Message
The vocals sound like someone whispering life advice through a cloud. You don't know if they're comforting you or quietly judging your life choices. Probably both.
Then it wraps you in a warm threat:
Take it. Please take it.
Take it. Please.
Take what? The truth? The emotional slap? The trauma? Doesn't matter. You're crying and lighting a candle now.
It's Not a Song. It's a Mood Disorder.
This track won't get the party started. It'll stop it. Mid-sip. And make you text your ex or cry into your nachos.
Play it when:
You're in your feelings
The group chat is quite
Someone said, "We need to talk," and never texted again
This song is sad, smart, and sneaky. You'll love it. Or you'll hate it and still hum it later like a cursed lullaby. Either way… take care.
How to Succeed in Making Artisan Candles
Leigha worked in the airline for nine years. Then she snapped and said, "Screw it, I'm making candles."
Ryan said, "Cool," and grabbed a wine bottle. That's where it all began. Leigha and Ryan decided to make their own wedding candles. Why? Because love makes you do weird things.
They didn't know what they were doing. No scents. No clue. Just wine, scissors, and vibes.
What really happened:
Friends came over for wine
Got roped into candle-making
Accidentally created the first candle class
Learned nothing and kept going anyway
They were just two people playing with wax and fire. What could go wrong?
Then Came the "Candle Gave Me a Headache" Era
Leigha kept getting headaches. Thought it was life. It turned out that the store-bought candles were full of garbage. Parabens, fake oils, mystery crap. She fell down a research rabbit hole and came back screaming, "We're doing this clean!"
So they switched to Soy wax, clean wicks, and Real scents that don't choke you out. They made candles that wouldn't slowly kill you. Revolutionary? No. Common sense? Absolutely.
Concrete Candles Because Glass Is Boring
Ryan didn't just stop at clean wax. He got weird with concrete.
He makes every candle jar by hand. Each one is different, like your mood swings, but prettier.
They also sell:
Match holders
Trays
Pumpkin-shaped candles, because why not?
A giant concrete candle with a built-in match slot like its 2075
Barbecue Candle
They made a Lockhart Barbecue candle. It smells like a campfire, not brisket grease; calm down.
People lined up thinking it was food. The joke's on them. It's wax. Still, they bought it. It doesn't go bad. It doesn't get cold. And it still smells like fall, Texas-style.
Refills So You Don't Cry When It's Gone
You don't throw away these candles. You refill them.
Steps:
Burn the candle
Scrape the inside like a psycho
Drop in a new scent
Smell like a clean cowboy again
Try leather for one week. Lavender the next. Live your best two-face life.
From Farmers Markets to a Real Shop That Doesn't Wobble
They started at farmers' markets. Selling candles. Watching strangers. Probably judging outfits.
Now, they run Artisan House. A shop with heart, hustle, and actual pricing that won't make you panic.
Inside, you'll find:
Local artists
Clean gifts
Tallow creams (Google it, your skin will thank you)
Wood tables that smell like nature and hard work
They don't just sell stuff. They help you pick things that go together. Need a birthday basket? They'll build it. Forgot Mother's Day? They got you.
If you want a candle that won't poison your air or kill your vibe, go see Artisan House.
Just don't try to eat the barbecue one. You've been warned.
CONCLUSION:
Let's be honest. None of these people had a five-year plan. Rider roped furniture in his living room. Nathan welded and sang heartbreak songs between shifts. The Ramblers guessed French lyrics and somehow didn't get booed.
Leigha and Ryan made candles with wine bottles and confusion. And Lovely Sparrows? They basically wrote a breakup song for your mental health.
They all had one thing in common: They did the weird thing. The hard thing. The "what the hell are you doing?" thing.
So go do your thing. Mess it up. Cry a bit. Laugh too much. Build something dumb. Sing something sad. Sell candles people can't eat. And if you're waiting for a sign to start, this is it.
You don't need to be ready. You just need to move, even if your first song sucks. Even if your first candle smells like regret, keep going. Keep creating.
And if nothing else, at least you'll have a funny story to tell. Now go on. Be strange. Be loud. Be someone who ropes, welds, sings, crafts, or cries in a canoe.
Because honestly, that's the kind of person the world remembers. The rest are just stuck watching.
