Sentences with phrase «other kinds of memory»

Now, however, Feng Rao, a materials scientist at the Chinese Academy of Sciences's Shanghai Institute of Microsystem and Information Technology, and colleagues have found a way to write all PCRAM bits quickly, making it faster than most alternatives, including NAND flash — one of the other kinds of memory that's able to store information absent a power supply.

What other kinds of memory studies are you conducting?

But doing your taxes won't help get an unwanted melody to go away, which might suggest that the brain areas that support musical recall are different from the brain areas that support other kinds of memory.

I found it remarkable that emotional memory takes precedence over any other kind of memory.

Not exact matches

Traditions of every kind, hoarded and manifested in gesture and language, in schools, libraries, museums, bodies of law and religion, philosophy and science — everything that accumulates, arranges itself, recurs and adds to itself, becoming the collective memory of the human race — all this we may see as no more than an outer garment, an epiphenomenon precariously superimposed upon all the other edifices of Nature (the only truly organic ones, as it may appear): but it is precisely this optical illusion which we have to overcome if our realism is to reach to the heart of the matter.

Over and over I go back once more to the same memories, none available in this way to any other stream of experiences; always, if I want to, I can recall that I had such and such a mother and father, brothers and sister, went to such and such schools, read certain books, etc., etc., through countless items of the kind.

Most products use shredded memory foam as it guarantees better airflow, but others also have layers of different kinds of memory foam to ensure ample support and breath - ability.

In other parts of the country, anti-Toryism in has become what Owen Jones describes as a kind of «folk hatred», fuelled by memories of mass unemployment and deindustrialisation under Margaret Thatcher.

This leads naturally to the view that each kind of memory has its own module separate from the others.

By repeating the experiment over and over, however, they are assembling a picture of what types of cells exist, how those cells function during tasks of place memory, and what kinds of connections they form with other cells.

Different brain structures seem to support different kinds of learning and memory; brain damage can lead to the loss of one type without disturbing the others.

Scientists must still discover whether memories other than fearful ones undergo a similar kind of reprocessing when they are retrieved.

Even though it is a technical tour de force, the paper leaves several open questions: «The study doesn't tell us whether there are other cells that are important for this kind of memory, or anything about other types of memory,» he says.

Practicing all listed below principles has helped many people all over the world to recover from all kinds of health problems including cancer, heart disease, chronic fatigue, poor concentration and memory, diabetes, obesity and overweight, depression, anxiety, arthritis, Alzheimer's disease, erectile dysfunction, PMS, chronic bronchitis and sinusitis, stomach ulcers and gastro - intestinal problems, ulcerative colitis, chronic constipation, slipped disc and other spine conditions, IBS, menopause symptoms, and various autoimmune diseases.

With The Dark Eye: Memory, Daedalic Entertainment produces a very classic - style adventure game, which manages to emerge among other same genre titles, trying to give a second life to this kind of game.

The other has Jobs's inexplicably - loyal assistant Joanna (Kate Winslet) throw a tantrum so that her boss will pay for his daughter's tuition, and offers one of the great screen monsters in recent memory a kind of Sorkin-esque redemption, hard - won at the end of a massive shouting match.

Strong plays John, a «memory detective», which is apparently a kind of shrink who walks around in other people's memories (in a style familiar to viewers of TV» sHannibal), and whose visions are therefore easily translated to film.

I've got lots of fond memories, and it's a kind of «back to school» feeling with everyone seeing each other again after the winter months.

The two older girls returned home almost immediately, while the other three were taken in by kind New England families whose alien cultures and traditions slowly distanced them from their memories of home.

Amazon did not provide specifics regarding what kind of processor would be found in the Fire HD 7 ″, other than simply saying that it will be «world - class» and will come with higher memory bandwidth than a Tegra 3 chip.

Pit bulls are aggressive, their are some or most that can be kind and genital, the pit bull is proving to be the most aggressive dog on earth because the brain was known to be affected because of the cross-breeding between diffrant forms of dogs, this is mainly why they are known to be aggressive because the DNA comes from two different species of dogs, and have been trained in the past to fight other dogs which is in genetic memory, pit bulls can be nice, but this is the average case for a pit bull...

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The program also offers clients a large number of other redemption options, including paying their credit card balance and mortgages, buying gift cards and merchandise, or placing a bid on the kind of experience that makes memories.

It's a game about the stories families tell each other and how memories become fiction and then history, before morphing into their own kind of truth.

It is a certain kind of groundedness on the one hand, and on the other hand — I won't call it a romantic sensibility — but a willingness to evoke rather than to state, a willingness to use the variable memories of an audience to infuse a given artist's metaphor with content beyond its literal description.

Others will have fond memories of the small IKEA kind, found months later in a coat pocket.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

Then as our community moves progressively forward, we can all still be relieved to know that Miami is still on its way to transcending its past as just another dumbed down tourist destination — promoting that less thoughtful decaying visual aroma that we still get a whiff of now and then... that kind of old Miami putrid commercialized smell that turned so many despondent and sour and caused the international arts communities to view Miami's indifference to an international discourse as but a memory, constantly recuperating the South Florida pastiche... a past that if you need reminding of you need only take a trip to Key West to know what kind of image Miami is still fighting against — the land built on coral and swamp, but filled with cheap and shallow tawdriness, like acid in your contemporary, progressive face, eyes of mundane kitschy campiness saddening and maddening, dumbed down affection that solicits and sells itself to another kind of cultural neanderthal — the accidental drunken tourist who seeks passive mediocrity and the same in other kindred spirits -LSB-.]

Through his depiction of appropriated portraits, architecture or other remnants of historic events from our collective memory, he investigates the use of art, architecture and figuration as propaganda for ideology of any kind.

[The epic learning game we call science] formalizes our special kind of collective memory, or species memory, in which each generation builds on what has been learned by those that came before, following in each other ’s

Where once we were isolated legal students, practitioners, and academics who could share our thoughts only with those in proximity, blogging and social media have turned us all into a kind of «other memory» for one another.

With this blog I would like a kind of «public» diary for me as a memory, for my family and friends, for all former and future au pairs and of course for all other people who are interested in it.