It's more the style. Often the technical jargon is arcane and there's usually not a clear distinction between when the author is using a very exacting mathematical term or just a generalized english term unless you are knees deep and spend a large number of your waking hours in a very specific field.
Then there's the naming ... P(X) and we're in probability and X is a random variable but if we are using just "p" then we're in physics and talking about momentum. If it's "P" then it's power, unless it's P(x) and then we're talking about geometry. And then you can italicize it, bold it, put a hat or a dot on it or under it, make the braces square, straight, or curly, and you get something else entirely; I mean completely different fields. Sometimes the same thing is used in multiple fields and then you need substitution syntax when using the two together. Great system!
So if you have a job where you are juggling 6 or so disciplines and you see a jumble of stylized letters in an equation along with a description, it's a fairly absurd system especially when the author assumes that all the readers know what they mean when they say i+p(j)/k or that when they use common everyday words which, in that particular branch of mathematics are actually very specific technical terms.
I often read things and think "what on earth is this person saying?" and then have to go back and decrypt this terribly designed mathematical language everyone uses that we are all supposed to say is a glorious and perfect interface. It's not, it's god awful and horrendous. The vast majority of humanity run screaming from it and can't interface with it to work through even simple concepts that they probably already know.
It's the modern version of ancient latin and it's become equally heretical to insist that we must create a better, more humane, more consistent, more discoverable, more flexible interface to describe the world that isn't just vestigial symbols from far-flung authors spanning 3000 years thrown together in a huge dumpster fire.
Every discipline has the problem that it's jargon is impenetrable to outsiders. Try showing someone with zero programming knowledge a text talking about "string search" and "pointer chasing" and they will be just as confused.
Mathematics is only different because it is useful in many other fields, so you get lots of non-mathematicians trying to make use of some result in isolation. When they don't understand the explanation, they blame it on the unfamiliar words and notation, but often that's just a symptom of not understanding the concepts. Anecdote: I have been taking a course taught in Chinese, which I don't speak very well, so all mathematical jargon is new to me. But just seeing how they were used let me recognize the words for familiar mathematical concepts.
Of course some mathematical writing is just bad, but usually mathematicians will then agree that it's bad. But if some formula comes with an explanation using words you don't understand, there is no way around looking up definitions until you understand the prerequisites. There is no language you could translate mathematics into to make it magically more understandable, unless the translation always prepends an introductory textbook.
I don't think it's heretical to long for better notation, I just don't think it's going to help much. But everyone is free to make up their own symbols, so feel free to go ahead. If it's really better, people will adopt it, just as they adopted superscripts for powers instead of one-off symbols, Leibniz notation instead of Newton's, and so on.
If you feel this way, I encourage you to consider learning a formal verification language like Coq. I've found that reading maths in Coq or the like (quite a lot of maths has already been formalised in some kind of proof assistant) is ultimately easier as although it's more verbose, the writer is forced to specify everything clearly and unambiguously, and checking the exact meaning of any term is only a command away.
Then there's the naming ... P(X) and we're in probability and X is a random variable but if we are using just "p" then we're in physics and talking about momentum. If it's "P" then it's power, unless it's P(x) and then we're talking about geometry. And then you can italicize it, bold it, put a hat or a dot on it or under it, make the braces square, straight, or curly, and you get something else entirely; I mean completely different fields. Sometimes the same thing is used in multiple fields and then you need substitution syntax when using the two together. Great system!
So if you have a job where you are juggling 6 or so disciplines and you see a jumble of stylized letters in an equation along with a description, it's a fairly absurd system especially when the author assumes that all the readers know what they mean when they say i+p(j)/k or that when they use common everyday words which, in that particular branch of mathematics are actually very specific technical terms.
I often read things and think "what on earth is this person saying?" and then have to go back and decrypt this terribly designed mathematical language everyone uses that we are all supposed to say is a glorious and perfect interface. It's not, it's god awful and horrendous. The vast majority of humanity run screaming from it and can't interface with it to work through even simple concepts that they probably already know.
It's the modern version of ancient latin and it's become equally heretical to insist that we must create a better, more humane, more consistent, more discoverable, more flexible interface to describe the world that isn't just vestigial symbols from far-flung authors spanning 3000 years thrown together in a huge dumpster fire.